


The Children of Earth and Air

by LadyKate



Category: Earth 2 (TV 1994)
Genre: Drama, F/M, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-17
Updated: 2005-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 67,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKate/pseuds/LadyKate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a sudden, unexplained encounter with a group of winged Terrians, Morgan becomes convinced that all is not well with Alonzo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _**Disclaimer: **Earth 2 and all related characters belong to the Amblin Entertainment. No copyright infringement intended, and there's definitely no money being made. It would be extremely rude (and unprofitable) to sue me. _
> 
> __   
> **Author's Notes &amp; Lame Excuses: **   
> 
> 
> _This story was written several years ago, but only partially completed. I recently found it hiding in a dark corner of my hard drive, and decided to finish it. I'll post the remaining chapters once I'm sure there are no glaring errors. There are obvious changes in the pacing and writing style, but I didn't really feel like overhauling the entire story, so that's the way it is. Originally started as an attempt to tell a story from only two opposing viewpoints (which is why Chapter 1 deals only with Morgan &amp; Alonzo's POV), that was abandoned as the story progressed._
> 
> _The storyline is set after the series end. Devon is not in the story because I have basically only one idea as to how to "unthaw" her, and that's being used in another story that is also still sitting on my hard drive. _:-)
> 
> _I have no medical knowledge whatsoever, so if Julia's medical opinions sound like uneducated gibberish, that's why._
> 
> _Whew! I have lots of notes/lame excuses! I will now shut up and let the story commence._

"Alonzo! Alonzo!" Morgan's strident voice was calling with more excitement than usual, and his running stride seemed to be exceptionally buoyant. "Come quickly! I've got to show you something! Quick!"

In the middle of helping Julia set up camp, Alonzo paused to stare dubiously at Morgan, not entirely sure what to make of this new enthusiasm, or why Morgan was so determined to share it with him.

"Hurry up!" Morgan urged.

Julia chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "You might as well go see what Morgan is so excited about. I'll finish setting up the tent."

"No, I'll do it when I get back. Shouldn't take too long... I hope." He eyed Morgan, who was jumping up and down with impatience. "You might want to help Bess with her tent," he suggested as an afterthought. "It looks like setting up camp is the last thing on Morgan's mind."

"Alonzo!" Morgan shrilled again, an especially whiny edge beginning to intrude on his voice.

"All right, all right, Morgan, I'm coming. What's got you so— urk!" Alonzo's question jolted to an abrupt halt as Morgan seized his arm and nearly hauled him off his feet as he started running full-tilt through the rocky landscape. Morgan raced at what had to be his top speed to the peak of a nearby hill. Alonzo followed more or less willingly. At the very least, Morgan's frantic rush had piqued his curiosity. Morgan was lethargic to a fault; anything that had him running had to be interesting.

"This," Morgan gasped triumphantly, stumbling to a halt and waving his arm expansively at the horizon, "**this**... is what I wanted to show you!"

The two of them were standing near the edge of the bluff, and beyond it the land dropped sharply off on an almost impossibly steep incline. It made for a most impressive view. From their vantage point, the land seemed to stretch out in every direction. A clustering of mountainous rocky peaks above, and far below, a bewildering maze of trails winding around stony spires of rock and earth. There were hints that there might once have been rivers and abundant plant life below, but now it was mostly dust and stone and cold wind.

It was a starkly beautiful landscape, but it made overland travel extremely difficult. Without air reconnaissance, it was hard to say which circuitous route would be the most passable and most convenient. And it was for that reason that Yale had suggested the group come to a halt and set up camp, simply because he needed to chart and study the available data. If they took a wrong turn, followed the wrong trail, it might take days to backtrack and try another. As it was, Yale had estimated it would take several weeks to travel through the canyons below.

"The minute I saw this," Morgan gushed, still huffing a bit from all his running, "I realized that you were probably the only one who would understand!"

Alonzo sighed. Apparently, Morgan was destined to go through life forever misunderstood. He stared out at the vista, searching for the gold or rich ores or mineral deposits that must have caught Morgan's eye, but couldn't see anything. Momentarily, he wondered if Morgan were visualizing a resort or something. He glanced at Morgan, who grinned happily. "What am I looking for?"

Morgan's face fell, and he finally realized where Alonzo was looking. "Not out there—! **Up** there!" he pointed, flinging his arm upward. "I think I've discovered some new Terrians."

Alonzo peered up into the bright sky. "I think you've discovered birds."

Morgan made a rude noise, then shoved a set of jumpers into Alonzo's hands.

The jumpers were set to maximum magnification, which brought the forms much closer, but the midday sun was making it difficult to discern any details. Alonzo could see... winged creatures. He keyed the measurement index, was a little surprised at the data. **Large **winged creatures. Perhaps almost Terrian in appearance... But they circled high above, and the jumpers kept flickering and readjusting as they tried to compensate against the intense light.

Still peering upwards, Alonzo took a few steps, trying to get a better angle, only to have Morgan seize his arm and yank him back.

"Watch it, Solace, or you're gonna walk right off the cliff."

Looking around, Alonzo realized how uncomfortably close he was to the edge. "Thanks, Morgan." Retreating a few steps, he handed the jumpers back to Morgan, trying to listen to that corner of his thoughts where the Terrians spoke. Nothing. The now-familiar itchiness at the back of his mind was absent; there were no half-heard whispers on the wind. He cast his mind outward, and felt nothing in response.

"So... what do you think?"

"I dunno," Alonzo muttered uncertainly, squinting as he looked up at them. "It's hard to see them clearly." The winged creatures drifted almost lazily in the air, very high above them. "But even on the dream plane, I've never seen flying Terrians."

"Well," Morgan huffed, obviously riled by Alonzo's skepticism, and his mood souring accordingly, "that's hardly surprising. If **_I_** were a Terrian, I certainly wouldn't go spilling my life's story and entire history to the first hothead pilot that came along. So I think you should stop pretending that you know everything about them."

Alonzo grinned, which only seemed to infuriate Morgan further. "Do you know, that's the first time I've actually heard you siding with the Terrians. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Listen, flyboy—"

"Morgan! Alonzo!" Bess' piercing cry cut through the air. She stood at the bottom of the incline, waving her arms furiously. "Watch out—!"

Both men whirled. A dark shape plummeted from the sky, speeding directly toward them at an alarming rate. Morgan dropped to the ground, Alonzo ducked, but not quite quickly enough. Something caught his arm just below the shoulder, wrenching him off his feet and off the embankment in one fluid motion. There were shouts beneath him, but the wind was roaring in his ears and his face so that he could hardly catch his breath, and the rocky landscape was whipping by at a dizzying rate.

For a few brief moments, he was too disoriented to make sense of what was happening.

One of Morgan's flying Terrians, he realized, craning his head upward to see. A powerful, clawed leg was latched painfully tight about his upper arm, but that vise-like grip was the only thing keeping him from falling to his death. Seizing his wrist with his free hand, he tried to stay as still as possible, and tried very hard not to think about what might happen if his jacket ripped. They were flying wildly through the canyons he'd been looking down at only moments before, skimming so close to rock walls that he was sure he could have kicked out with a dangling foot and touched them.

His arm felt like it was about to be pulled from its socket by the time the creature released him, dropping him on a particularly high outcropping of rock. Alonzo fell heavily, rolling as he hit the ground, but at least he was in one piece.

The creature circled above him, but did not come any closer. Alonzo glanced quickly about, trying to get his bearings. The small rocky plateau he'd been dumped on was perched atop a high column of rock. The surrounding canyon walls were far too far to even dream of jumping across, and they seemed almost as sheer. No easy way down – at least, not without ropes and harnesses. And hell if he knew just which way the camp was; from where he now stood, the entire surrounding landscape was nothing but craggy hills, and he'd been too startled to be paying any attention to exactly which direction the creature had been taking him.

What had it been? One minute? Two? He wasn't quite sure, but fervently hoped that the camp wasn't too far away...

He turned around, trying to look in every direction at once, and caught sight of dark wings, dark shapes drawing nearer. A large number of them. And a high keening wail. That one creature looked odd... like it was carrying—

Morgan howled, and for once Alonzo couldn't blame him. The creature had caught him by the ankle, and had flown him all the way over here while hanging upside down.

The creature swooped in low, pulling up in a sharp upward turn as it let Morgan loose. Alonzo jumped forward, trying to break the other man's fall. Morgan plowed into him with all the force of a runaway cargo pod, sending both of them crashing to the ground in an awkward tangle of arms and legs.

With a painful groan, Alonzo shoved Morgan off him. It took another concerted burst of effort to actually sit up. "You okay?" Alonzo finally managed.

"Y-y-yeah," Morgan stuttered, glassy-eyed with terror. "W-what... W-w-where are we?"

'No place good,' he thought, but didn't say that. "Just keep calm, Morgan. I think we're going to have to wait for the others to help us down from here."

"B-but those things... what do they want now?" Morgan wailed, pointing with his chin.

Alonzo turned, watched as some of the creatures began to alight on the other side of the plateau. Up close like this, he could see why Morgan thought they were Terrians. There were... similarities. Same impassive countenance and mottled colouring. Intimidatingly tall. And yet, they were lithe and slender and graceful in form where the Terrians were stoic and strong and muscled. Large dark eyes rather than the wizened Terrian gaze. Long bat-like wings. No arms that he could see. And though he mentally reached out for the dreamplane, these beings did not speak to him at all...

The creatures began to advance toward them. "Alonzo?" Morgan wailed desperately. "What do they want?"

"I don't know," he said uneasily, still casting his mind out, trying to dream to them, but there was nothing. And when he opened his eyes, they had moved in between him and Morgan, had already encircled them. Damn. Not good. "I don't think they're Terrians. At least, if they are, I can't reach them." The creatures seemed drawn by his voice, leaning close as he spoke, and so he fell silent. A leathery wing reached out, brushed against his jacket. He flinched, but didn't run. There was nowhere to run to, anyway.

"I think," Morgan whimpered, and the creatures all turned their attention to his tremulous voice, "I think they maybe just want to see... what we are?"

He might be right, Alonzo supposed. The bird-like creatures were circling, batting experimentally at them, but otherwise not really threatening them. "Just keep calm," he murmured briefly. "Quiet."

"I'm quiet," Morgan squeaked before he stopped talking altogether, and even seemed to be holding his breath.

In only a few moments, the creatures seemed to be losing interest in the two humans. They began to withdraw, one after the other taking wing and leaping into the sky, leaving less and less of them clustered about them.

Possibly the penal colonists had never ventured into this area; perhaps these creatures had never seen humans before. Perhaps it was just curiosity...

One of the few remaining creatures stretched out an inquisitive wingtip the colour of tattered old leather; it rustled over the shoulder of Alonzo's jacket, then brushed up across the side of his neck. Alonzo stiffened with shock as the touch sent a jolt through his nervous system.

"Alonzo?" he heard Morgan asking nervously, but he couldn't turn his head to see him. The creature leaned forward and chittered loudly into his face, and suddenly there were more creatures in front of him, wings outstretched, touching his neck, his forehead, his face.

It burned. Trying to ward them away, he flung out his hands, and those were seized too. He fell backwards, crashing to the ground, the creatures leaning over him and following him down, all of them now chittering and screeching and touching him, and their touch burned, he didn't even know what it was he was feeling, but it was alien, it was terrifying.

"Alonzo!"

He couldn't see anything now but the blur of shifting wings, couldn't feel anything but their skin crawling over his; he screamed then, again and again, trying to twist away from them, to escape, but they were everywhere, and they dragged him down, away from consciousness.

* * *

Morgan was convinced that Alonzo was dead. How had it happened? It was almost a blur in his mind. Those things had been leaving, and then suddenly they had pounced upon the other man, swarming over him like starving rats, and Alonzo had shouted and fallen over, struggling and kicking, and that was all Morgan had been able to see of the other man – just his legs sticking out from the pile of wings and aliens. He'd been sure they were sucking the blood out of him – they looked just like bats. Morgan had seen bats in the VR zoos on the stations, and while the tour guides had said most bats were too small to harm humans, these creatures were big, they towered over them.

Morgan had flung a stone or two, but it bounced off their tough hides and they paid no attention. And then he didn't know what to do, so he simply backed as far away as he could and tried not to see what they were doing. Alonzo abruptly fell silent. The creatures huddled over him for a while longer, squeaking and chirping to themselves and rustling their wings, and then they had all got to their feet and turned to look at Morgan.

One of them came for him. He'd wanted to run, but he was trapped up here, and so he'd simply whimpered, "No, don't come near me," even though they couldn't possibly understand. The creature had stretched out a wingtip, brushed it firmly against his face. The touch itched a little, but that was all; and he just waited there trembling, not wanting to antagonize the creature, but not knowing what to do. "Uh... is this a test...?" The tall being peered unblinkingly at him, then abruptly withdrew the wing, and it and all the others flew away.

Just like that.

It was a while before he finally mustered enough courage to check on Alonzo. The other man lay sprawled a few feet away with his eyes closed; he was silent and unmoving, but at least he wasn't the bloody, gory mess that Morgan had so frightfully imagined. He actually looked... sort of... okay. Tentatively, he touched Alonzo's cheek, happily surprised to find it still warm, and felt the warm whisper of a breath on his hand.

"Oh, thank god! Alonzo – wake up!" Morgan slapped his face lightly, and when he got no response, started shaking him. "You're okay; wake up!"

Obviously, Alonzo wasn't ready to wake up. And it was getting dark.

Morgan sat back on his heels in frustration, looking vainly around for something that would help. Out here. Way in the middle of nowhere. On top of a big rock. "Okay," he murmured to himself, stretching out both of his hands as if he were gesturing for someone else to stay calm. Deep breath. "What to do. I need... Sun going down. It's getting dark. Build a fire. Yes. That would be good." He always felt less panicky when he had something to do. Sticks. There were at least some dry, dead sticks up here. Once upon a time, there must have been lots of growing things here, but the undergrowth was very brittle now. Should burn nicely. And the others would be looking for them – maybe they'd see the fire. If he could get one going. And if he didn't fall off the edge of this stupid rock in the dark.

Okay. Enough sticks. "Something to light it. I wonder—" He began to hunt through his pockets. Morgan had made it a habit to always carry small survival items, just in case. Enough people had had enough weird things happen to them on this planet that he was convinced you could never be too careful. Of course, most of the stuff he'd had in his pockets was now scattered halfway across G889, since those things had carried him here upside down.

Damn. No igniter in his pockets. He started to dig through Alonzo's. Yes! The old Martin luck wasn't extinct yet – it had just been a little unreliable lately, that's all... His hands were shaking as he tried to light the fire.

"You'll be okay, Alonzo, and in the morning we'll get down from here. Somehow. I'm sure Bess and the others are coming."

The thought of his wife was the lifeline that kept him from thinking of all the other terrible things that could maybe happen – like if those creatures came back to eat them, or if they didn't come back and instead he and Alonzo both starved to death up here, or if— Okay. Enough of that.

"Bess and the others will be here tomorrow," he murmured insistently to his unconscious companion, "don't you worry about it. Don't you worry at all."

* * *

Alonzo woke with a grinding headache and unusually stiff muscles. Opening his eyes, he restrained a groan as he sat up, and looked around. It was dawn, and he and Morgan were lying out in the open. There was a small fire just guttering out, and no sign of anyone or anything else.

For a brief moment, he blinked uncomprehendingly at his surroundings, and then a memory flared through his mind. Those winged things Morgan had dragged him up to look at. And then getting carried off. It seemed like a dream, now.

Alonzo managed to climb stiffly to his feet without waking Morgan, and began to look over their surroundings. Let's see... Eden Advance had been heading west. Which meant they should be somewhere over there. Alonzo turned to look in that direction, but the landscape was still heavily shrouded in shadow. They might be there; they might not.

He leaned cautiously toward the edge, looking down at the dizzying drop. Okay, not going to get down that way. Not without ropes. And the other rocks over there were too far to—

Alonzo stopped. He'd done this yesterday, hadn't he? Yes. The memory was blurry, but it came back. Just before those creatures had thrown Morgan at him. It was a small memory, not very significant, but it disturbed him slightly. He didn't usually forget things.

He turned to glance back at Morgan, wincing as his stiff muscles protested the movement. Maybe he'd underestimated Morgan's weight, velocity, angle of approach, whatever – but getting in his way obviously hadn't been a very good idea. And judging from the ache at the back of his head, he'd probably knocked himself senseless in the process. Which explained the hazy memories of yesterday.

Morgan himself was still sprawled in an exhausted heap next to the tiny fire, looking as though he'd fretted and fussed himself to sleep. Alonzo let him be. Morgan-in-a-panic was never an easy thing to deal with, and without Bess here to calm him down, he'd be worse than usual.

'Besides,' Alonzo thought, trying to convince himself that his motives were completely altruistic, 'he looks like he could use the rest.'

* * *

He awoke at the sound of... gunfire? That didn't make any sense... did it? He sat up, bleary-eyed and puzzled, stiff and sore and cold from a night of lying out on the open ground.

He was on the plateau. Where those awful bird-Terrians had left the two of them. The sun was climbing midway up the sky – early morning. And Alonzo... Alonzo stood near the edge, whooping and hollering and gesturing over the side.

Alonzo was okay.

He wanted to jump up, to run over and ask what was going on, but Morgan had never been able to bounce out of bed. Usually Bess had to spend a good ten minutes gently shaking him before he could make the effort. But Bess wasn't here, and the ground was cold and hard, and he felt like he'd been frozen to the ground during the night. It was a few minutes of effort before he was actually able to stand up on his own and shuffle over to the other man. "Hey," he croaked, "you're okay!"

Alonzo threw him a bright smile, completely wide awake and already firing on all thrusters by the look of it. Damn, but Morgan hated people like that. "Yeah, I'm fine," Alonzo replied cheerily. "I was beginning to worry about you, actually. You always sleep so soundly?"

"Wh- what are you... talking about?" Morgan asked, still fighting off a yawn. "You're the one— Hey. What's going on?"

"The group's down below," Alonzo replied, and for the first time Morgan noticed that he had a length of rope in his hands, was busy attaching things to it. "I've been yelling at them for a good half hour now, and you didn't even blink."

"I heard... an explosion. Or something."

"That would be the sound of our return trip ticket. They fired a grappling pin into the rock face. Perfect shot. Couldn't have got it much closer without overshooting," Alonzo commented approvingly. "Once I get everything set up, we can be on our way."

Morgan had fully intended to ask Alonzo about yesterday, about what had happened, why those things had turned on him like that, and was he sure he was okay, but he felt something freeze within him at the pilot's words. That frighteningly slender rope, and those small metal attachments, and... and were those things harnesses? He reeled dizzily backwards, sat down heavily. "Oh my god..."

"Morgan? What's wrong?"

"Are you saying... you're saying... we're going to **climb** down?" His voice was squeaking again, but he couldn't help it. "On **ropes**? I thought— I thought they were going to come get us. How come— You can't seriously expect— Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick..."

"Morgan. Morgan, calm down!" Alonzo had taken him by the shoulders, was shaking him a little bit. The motion made him feel even more nauseous, but Morgan stopped his panicked dialogue. "They can't get up here," Alonzo explained patiently. "It's too high, they don't have the equipment, and even if they could get up here, we'd all still have to find a way down. We haven't got any air vehicles. This is the only way down. You **do** want to get down, don't you?" Morgan nodded forlornly. "Good." Alonzo pulled the equipment over to Morgan, lifted it in front of his face. "Your harness is attached here, to this device, which controls your descent. You pull this lever down to go faster – the minute you let go of it, it will stop." Alonzo proceeded to show him how the rope fed through, explained how the top rope was secured and couldn't possibly come loose, and Morgan felt his head swimming until Alonzo's words were just a blur. "Morgan, are you listening to me?"

"Yes." The word popped out instinctively, the way it always did when someone challenged him unexpectedly. Yes, I'm listening. No, it wasn't me. Yes, I'm ready. No, I didn't do that. "I mean... I think so."

"Okay. Put this on." Alonzo tossed him a confusing bundle of straps. Morgan watched Alonzo fasten his harness, tried to mimic the movements, feeling for all the world like he was strapping himself into his own coffin.

Apparently it showed on his face. "Don't worry about it so much," Alonzo said sympathetically. "It's perfectly safe. You'll be fine."

"How do **you** know!" Morgan burst out. "You're a pilot, not... not a... rope-maker, for god's sake!"

Alonzo smiled faintly, double-checking Morgan's harness, and making readjustments. "Some of my buddies and I had planned to go on one of those old-style rock-climbing adventure tours on Earth." He shrugged. "Seemed like it might be an interesting thing to do," which was the lamest excuse for going on a daredevil expedition that Morgan had ever heard. "Turned out there was so much bureaucratic red tape involved – everything from permits and passes and inoculations and release waivers – that we finally just said 'the hell with it' and spent our time and money at Garsonia starbase instead."

"So you've never actually done this before," Morgan said, picking out the one pertinent point from the other man's monologue.

Alonzo hesitated slightly, then conceded, "No. Not really."

"Then... then where'd you learn all that... that stuff you were going on about?"

"Learned it in my sleep."

"What!"

"Slipped it in between the company-loyalty monologues and the equipment bulletins. Sleep runs are long and expensive; it's standard practice for the shipping companies to educate their employees while we're sleeping on the job." Alonzo grinned rakishly, as if he knew exactly what the other man was thinking, "Never underestimate the power of the subconscious, Morgan."

* * *

Morgan, looking especially queasy, had insisted that Alonzo go first. Alonzo wasn't really sure that was a great idea – he was a little worried that Morgan would lose his nerve and sit up here forever unless there was someone forcing him down, but, on the other hand, he doubted Morgan would want to stay once he was all alone.

Besides, he half-suspected that the only reason Morgan really wanted him to go first was to see whether or not the ropes would hold.

Alonzo flashed Morgan a cocky grin, then leaned back over the edge of the drop. There was a heart-stopping moment where he simply fell, and then the rope and harness caught him, and he swung down nice and snug against the cliff side.

Kicking outward, Alonzo began rappelling down the rock face. He'd done it before in VR simulations, but it wasn't one of his strong points. No need to tell Morgan that – the man was apprehensive enough as it was. Still, it wasn't so bad... The trick was not to look down. Which, of course, he did.

It was a long way down, and the rope trailing beneath him seemed almost frail as it drifted in the wind. The rope in his hand was taut and strong, the harness secure, but the creaking sound it made reminded him distinctly of the groans his dying ship had made when it was pulled down into the atmosphere. For a moment, he hesitated, feeling that ache in his leg, the leg that had been broken before, the ache he always got when he thought of falling and of breaking bones, and suddenly he froze.

There were sounds carried on the wind, maybe the others calling encouragement, but whatever it was, their words were lost by the time they reached this height. "Just give me a minute, dammit," he muttered, trying to shut out everything and focus. His legs felt like lead; he couldn't convince them to move.

Squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath to steady himself, he looked upwards instead. Upwards at the sky, the clouds, imagining that maybe he could see the stars half-hiding behind the noonday sky.

Upwards was flying, freedom. He'd never feared the sky. He could do anything here, could touch the stars if he put his mind to it.

He began rappelling downwards again. Kick out and drop. Kick out and drop. Again and again, until it became almost instinctive, until he no longer needed to think about it. The wind was whooshing by in an exhilarating rush. It felt... almost like flying...

Quite suddenly, he wanted to stretch out his arms to catch the wind.

He wanted to fly.

Only the buzzing sound in his ears was growing steadily louder, was turning into screams and shouts, and he abruptly shook off the odd feeling, realized the ground must be coming up awfully fast, quickly letting loose his grip on the braking mechanism to slow his descent.

Kick out and—

"Oof!" He met the ground with such jarring force that it knocked all the air from his lungs. His vision grew abruptly fuzzy; he wondered if he were actually going to pass out.

"Alonzo!" He blinked, and slowly the darkness receded. He was lying flat on his back with Julia leaning over him, shouting his name with such an expression on her face... "Alonzo, can you hear me! Are you all right?"

"...bit woozy," he decided when he was finally able to breathe again, trying to sit up.

The doctor shoved him back down, running her diaglove over him, and all the fear in her face turned to wrath. "You're lucky you aren't dead after that stunt you pulled!" she snapped. "What were you trying to do? Are you trying to kill yourself? Do you want to break every bone in your body? What were you thinking!"

"Was thinking... that there was... about ten meters... more rope," he huffed, slowly getting his breath back.

"You're reckless," Julia pronounced, as if it were her official diagnosis. Her face was stiff, and she wasn't quite meeting his eyes, a sure sign she was angry with him. More than usual, this time. "With you, everything has to be a thrill, doesn't it? You don't get that adrenaline rush, you figure you're missing something."

"Aw, come on—"

"I don't want to hear it, Alonzo! We're few enough as it is without you taking insane risks for no reason. You're flesh and blood – you break as easily as the rest of us. I thought you'd have figured that out by now. You had no business being so careless, coming down at a breakneck speed like that, like you were in freefall."

"Just wanted to get back to my Julia, as quick as can be," he replied, sitting up again, and this time she let him. The motion made his head spin a bit, but he wasn't going to admit it. The doctor was not in a sympathetic mood. He threw her his most charming smile, but still she glowered at him. "Anyone ever tell you that you're beautiful when you're angry?"

"You. Are. Incorrigible." Her eyes still flashed dangerously, but she permitted him to pull her into a brief embrace before she drew away. "And you're an idiot," she continued, undaunted. "Next time be more careful."

"What's the verdict, doctor?" Danziger asked. "Is our kamikaze pilot going to live?"

"Yes, he'll live. In spite of himself. No broken bones, just got the wind knocked out of him." Julia got to her feet, shooting one last scalding glance at Alonzo before she stalked off, still muttering angrily under her breath.

"Good to see you're still in one piece, Lonz," Danziger said, extending a hand and pulling Alonzo to his feet. "That was a pretty spectacular descent. This is – what? – the second time you've crash-landed on G889?"

"Fun-ny, Danziger."

"I thought so," he smirked briefly, than asked more seriously, "You sure you're okay? How's Morgan?"

"Oh... you know Morgan." Alonzo squinted, looking up at the figure on the side of the rock face. Far above, Morgan was giving little tiny hops of movement without making any perceptible progress downwards. "He was all right when I left. Maybe a little more freaked out than usual. But..." He watched Morgan make another small hop. "Is his rope stuck or something?"

"Bess says he's not good with heights," Danziger replied, glancing upward again. A short distance away, Bess stood with Julia and the others, shouting helpful words of encouragement up to her husband, who probably couldn't hear them anyway. "Can't say that surprises me," he added. "Morgan's scared of his own shadow."

"We could be here a while," Alonzo realized, mentally calculating the number of teeny tiny leaps it would take to traverse the long distance down.

"A long while," Danziger agreed. "So just what happened to you two?"

* * *

Morgan had been watching Alonzo out of the corner of his eye ever since they'd got back to camp. He'd half-expected that Alonzo would approach him, offer some explanation, but the other man had made no attempt to do so. So, when he saw Alonzo wandering out of the campsite just after finishing his meal, Morgan waited a few minutes, then followed.

Alonzo hadn't gone far. He'd walked to the perimeter of the camp, where he had a good view of the surrounding landscape, and he just stood there, staring up at the craggy hills. The evening light was fading; Morgan couldn't see whether there were leathery flickers of movement perched on those hillsides or not, but Alonzo's still scrutiny made him think that there must be.

"Why didn't you tell them?"

Alonzo jerked with surprise at the low voice; obviously, he'd thought he was alone. "Morgan," he half-laughed as he turned toward him, "you just scared the hell out of me." His smile dimmed a little bit. "Are you okay?"

"Why didn't you tell them?" he grated insistently. Morgan had already waited long enough for an explanation. It was partly his fault – he'd let Alonzo avoid the topic this morning. Morgan's own fears about getting down had seemed more immediate and alarming than whatever had happened to Alonzo, and besides, the other man had obviously recovered.

And going down the sheer cliff face had been awful, terrifying, with tiny crumbling handholds and nothing but a small metal pin in the rock face and a creaky rope to keep him from falling. It was almost worse than the wild flight that had stranded him up there in the first place. Almost. When he'd finally reached the bottom, safe and alive despite all his fears, he'd been so full of relief that he hadn't been able to think about anyone or anything but Bess.

But eventually, he began to hear the conversations around him. The others went to Alonzo, asked him what had happened. And Alonzo had relayed the events, leaving out any mention of what had happened to him. Morgan could not imagine why. But if he'd learned one thing from his time on the stations, and especially on this planet, it was that most secrets eventually blew up in people's faces. And the last thing he wanted was to be keeping a secret he didn't even understand.

"Tell them what?" Alonzo asked evenly.

Morgan shifted uneasily. "Just tell me why," he pressed.

"Why what?" he returned. "Morgan? Are you sure you're okay?" A definite note of concern was creeping into the other man's voice. He took a step forward, and Morgan jumped back, abruptly afraid that Alonzo was going to do something to him. Alonzo, clearly puzzled, halted. "What's wrong?"

"Don't pretend it didn't happen!" he exclaimed, frustrated. "I was there! They did something to you. Those creatures. Those Terrian things. They carried us up there, and then they surrounded us, and then they all jumped on you. I mean, they were everywhere. And you... you were shouting like they were killing you or something. And then they all flew away, and I couldn't wake you; you wouldn't wake up. And I want to know..." His voice faltered, but he forced himself to finish. "I just want to know why you're lying about it. Why you won't tell the others what really happened."

It was dark now, but Alonzo was facing the camp, and that distant light was enough that Morgan could see his face very clearly. Not a flicker passed over his still features. Nothing.

"Morgan," he said carefully, "that's not how it happened—"

He didn't want to hear it. Alonzo wasn't behaving the way he had expected him to. The whole thing was weird and it was starting to make his skin crawl. He tried to leave, but Alonzo grabbed his arm. Morgan's uneasiness flared quickly into panic, and he flung his fist into Alonzo's face. Which was stupid, because there was no way he was ever going to beat Alonzo in a fight, but at least he managed to break free, and started running back to camp as fast as he could.

Alonzo had caught up with him before he'd gone twenty steps. "Dammit, Morgan, calm down— What the hell is the matter with you!"

"No! Let me go!" he howled, and he might as well have been trying to fight one of those stony, implacable Terrians for all the good his struggling did him. "Get away from me!"

The commotion had drawn the rest of the camp, who pulled the two of them apart. Bess was at his side in an instant, and Morgan seized upon her with wild relief, falling into her arms as if he'd expected to never see her again. "What's going on?" she demanded, half-angry, half-frightened. "Morgan?"

He pointed an accusing finger towards Alonzo. "They did something to him."

"What? Morgan, what are you talking about?"

"Those things!" he exclaimed in frustration. "The flying Terrians – whatever they were!"

Everyone turned and looked at Alonzo, who just shrugged. "I don't know what he's talking about."

"You do!" he shouted, infuriated. "You're lying!" And then realized how his words must sound to everyone else. "I'm telling you," he insisted, "they did something to him. He's lying!" Bess looked at him in confusion, and Danziger's expression was openly skeptical.

"Come on, Morgan," Bess murmured, gathering him into her arms and trying to shepherd him away. "Let's go."

Everyone else was standing about, silent and watchful, and he knew what they were thinking. They were thinking that he was crazy. Morgan was panicking again, Morgan was twitchy and irrational, and Morgan was always, always wrong. All their eyes were on him, not on Alonzo who was wearing such a perfect imitation of wronged innocence.

In a rage, Morgan whirled on Alonzo, stabbing an accusing finger in his face as Bess tried her hardest to pull him away, "And you—! You can pretend you're normal now, but I know! I know there's something not right about you, so you just stay away from me, and from Bess! You hear me! Stay away!"

* * *

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Julia asked as she stepped into the tent.

"I don't know what's going on," Alonzo sighed, running a hand over his face. He'd already gone through this with Danziger and the others. Over and over again. "He just flipped out on me."

"You don't remember anything that he mentioned?"

Alonzo groaned. "No. Because it didn't happen. Yes, those winged creatures grabbed us. I don't know why. Maybe we were standing a little too close to their territory, maybe we looked like a nice bite-sized meal. I don't know."

"They weren't Terrian?"

"No." He frowned slightly. "Not exactly. Maybe once, but... I tried to dream to them, but it was empty... I couldn't reach them," he said firmly. "I can't explain it any better than that. They dumped me on that rock. And then they flew up with Morgan, and I stupidly tried to catch him, and the last thing I recall is hitting my head. I didn't come around until early the next morning – today, I guess –, and then you guys came to the rescue with the climbing equipment and we got down. Morgan went crazy sometime after that point."

"Well," she commented, lifting her gloved hand to touch the back of his head, "you both show signs of suffering mild concussion within the last twelve hours, but the effects don't register high enough to warrant Morgan's outburst. Or an extended period of unconsciousness." She touched his throat, lightly, professionally, her eyes on her diaglove the whole time, and whatever it was telling her, she did not choose to relate. "Morgan's personality does tend to be a bit more... anxious... than your own." She deactivated her glove, and met his eyes. "It is possible that he's just experiencing a delayed reaction in response to a traumatic event. Still..."

Julia's eyes were staring intently into his own, and while he usually loved the blue of her gaze, he wasn't so fond of 'the doctor stare'. He always felt as though she were looking through him when she did that, not seeing him as a person any more, but as a collection of muscle and tissue and bone. She had looked at him that way for the longest time when they had first crashed here, when she'd been taking care of his fractured leg – as if he hadn't been any more to her than 'G889 medical case file #1'. He didn't like going back to that, not even momentarily.

He glanced away from her.

"Hey." She knelt in front of him, grabbing his chin and turning his face back toward her. Her gaze had softened. "What is that look supposed to mean?"

He wanted to deny it, to claim ignorance, but the pull of her eyes on his was too strong. He could never lie to her. He wondered if she knew that. "Sometimes, I don't like the doctor." The words sounded foolish, meaningless.

Julia smiled a little bit, seemed to understand. "Sometimes, I don't like the pilot. I'm..." She hesitated, her gaze fluttering nervously now. "I'm always afraid he's going to fly away." He started to speak, but she put her fingers to his lips, silencing him. "Alonzo, please understand that I'm not doubting you when I question. I can't help being the doctor any more than you can help being the pilot. I do believe you. I trust you. And I... I'm glad you're here. Don't ever doubt that just because... because I find these things difficult to say."

He pulled her into his arms then, pressed his face against the softness of her hair. "You know I love you, Julia."

And he could never quite tell whether she took those words as a statement or a question, for she never replied directly, but she kissed him, and there was no further need for words between them.

* * *

So Morgan was the crazy one.

All because Danziger didn't like to think there could be anything wrong with his buddy, and as for Julia... well, skewed chromosomes or not, if the doctor was spending every other night in the same bed as her patient, her professional judgment was going to be somewhat impaired. If Devon had been here, then maybe... But Devon wasn't here – she was far away, lying in cold sleep – and all the other members of the group had also rallied behind Alonzo; they gave Morgan little glances when they thought he couldn't see, making that extra effort to keep the two of them apart.

So what else was new? The handsome, cocky pilot had been part of the inner circle almost from day one. As for Morgan... well, he knew exactly where he himself was located on the priority list: somewhere below the Grendlers, and just above the penal colonists. If he hadn't known it before, he certainly did now.

But he was right. Dammit, he was right. There was something wrong with Alonzo, and no one else knew it, and maybe even Alonzo didn't know it, but Morgan knew it was there. Whether Alonzo was lying or not, whether it showed on Julia's registers or not, whether anyone else wanted to believe him or not – Morgan knew.

And sooner or later, it would all come out. Whatever it was. Whenever. He didn't know what to expect, but Morgan would watch and wait. For as long as it took. He'd be ready. He'd protect Bess and the others.

In the end, he'd show them he was right.

He'd do it, even if it killed him, or – god help him – Alonzo.


	2. Chapter 2

"You were dreaming," she said, and until her voice sounded quietly beside him in the darkness, he had not fully realized that he had awakened.

"Was I?" There was no memory of it in him; there was just the darkness, the quiet, and the comforting warmness of her beside him.

"You were crying."

His cheeks were wet. He had to touch a hand to them to feel for himself before he believed her words. And still no memories troubled his waking mind. "I don't remember," he sighed, reaching for her in the darkness and pulling her close. "I'm sorry if I waked you."

"It's all right," she breathed, and was silent for a long time. He had begun to drift back off to sleep when she spoke again. "Alonzo... is there something troubling you?"

"No, Julia." They had had this conversation before, two nights ago. And three nights before that as well.

"It's just..." She seemed hesitant, but he felt her sit up in bed, could sense the shadowy outlines of her form as she turned toward him. If there had been any light in the tent, he knew the expression he would see on her face: quizzical and intent. But he could not mistake the deep tone of concern in her voice. She touched his cheeks, smoothing away the remnants of tears he did not remember having shed, and said, "You haven't slept well the last while."

"Julia, I'm fine." What else was there to say? "I'm just tired."

"All right," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I just worry about you."

He felt a smile touch his lips at that. "I'm old enough to look after myself. Older than you, anyway."

She didn't immediately respond to his teasing, and after a few moments, asked, "Alonzo, do you have any children?"

It was his turn to sit up in surprise. Where the hell had that question come from? "I don't know, Julia."

"You don't know?"

"No," he said tersely, a faint edge beginning to intrude on his voice, and he pulled away from her. He knew how it sounded, knew what she must be thinking. "No, I don't know. Yes, there were other women, Julia. Lots of other women. Mostly in between jobs, in between sleep runs. I spent some time with them, and whatever happened, happened, and that was it. I got my next job and I left."

"Did you never wonder if—"

"Of course I did," and he was getting angry, "but that isn't the way it works. You can't just go digging up pieces of your past, not if you want to stay in the business, not if you want to stay sane. It's done. Over. And you leave it alone and you go on. You have no idea, Julia – you have no idea what it's like, what it takes."

In counterpoint to his anger, she remained calm, eminently reasonable. It was her damn doctor voice – and he was hearing it more and more frequently. "I left everything behind, spent twenty-two years in cold sleep to come here to G889. I think I understand—"

"No, you don't! You said it yourself – you left everything behind to come here, Julia. You took one trip and stopped. As far as you're concerned, the sleep might have been one day, one week, one month, one hundred years. It doesn't make any difference to you, because you aren't ever going back."

She was suddenly very quiet, very still. "And you are?" she asked.

Belatedly, he realized that he'd treaded onto that topic they never spoke of, the thing they both ignored by mutual agreement. "I don't know, Julia." And then he laughed bitterly. "I guess there's a lot of things I don't know."

There was the hint of a sigh in her voice as she caught his arm and drew him back to her. "You were talking in your sleep, Alonzo. You were crying about 'the children'. That was the only reason I asked. I didn't mean to sound judgmental or accusing. I only wanted to help you."

Children. It didn't make any sense. And he couldn't remember it. He didn't want to.

"Maybe I should run a few more tests—"

"No. I don't want any more." He'd had enough medical tests in the past two weeks to last him for the next ten years, all because Morgan had bumped his head and decided there was something wrong with him. And Julia hadn't found anything wrong, but every time he tripped over his feet, she was there, suggesting maybe they should take another test.

"Alonzo—"

"Julia, I said no." She was silent for a moment, and then Alonzo heard her turn away from him, heard her fingers fumbling quietly through the items by the bedside, and realized she must be searching for the lumalight. He put his hand on her shoulder, felt her stiffen under his touch. "Don't go. I'm sorry. I..." He didn't know what he wanted to say. "Let's just not talk about it any more," he murmured. "Not tonight."

"All right," she replied softly, turning back to him. She brushed a hand through his hair, then drew him near and pulled him into an embrace, wrapping her arms protectively about him. "All right. I'm sorry, too." Her voice was low and soothing. "We'll worry about it later. Go to sleep."

* * *

Julia held him gently, silently counting off the minutes. She waited until she felt the tension leave his muscles, waited until his breathing had dropped to a slow and measured pace, waited until she felt enough time had passed. Carefully, she extricated herself from his embrace, reaching around him to brush her fingers against the back of his neck to make sure the sedaderm patch she had surreptitiously applied was still there.

"Alonzo?" she asked tentatively, shaking him a little, but apparently the sedative had taken hold, for he didn't respond. She flicked on the light, quickly pulling on some clothes and pushing her feet into her boots. Crossing the room, she put on her gear, murmuring quietly as she began to record, "Dr. Julia Heller, medical journal. Encoded entry, my voiceprint only," she instructed, pulling on her diaglove and collecting her medical equipment. "Subject: Alonzo Solace."

He'd be angry with her, she knew, if he found out about this. Maybe he'd even have good reason to be. But, at the moment, she didn't care about that.

This was the sixth time in the last nine days that he'd cried out in his sleep, thrashing and weeping and calling incoherently. Always claiming to have no waking memory of the disturbance. Never wanting to speak about it.

The fact that his nightmares had begun so shortly after the "flying Terrians" incident was not lost on her either, for all that she scoffed at Morgan's dire mutterings of possession and treachery. She'd already examined both Morgan and Alonzo, and found nothing amiss in either man. But perhaps she hadn't looked closely enough, perhaps she'd missed something. Perhaps there was nothing at all to find; other than the sudden onset of nightmares, there was no indication whatsoever that anything was wrong with Alonzo.

But she'd already made too many mistakes on this planet – Devon's current condition was enough to attest to that – and this time Julia was determined to make no errors. The next time, she would not have the luxury of a cold sleep chamber to preserve patients she couldn't cure. She had to be sure.

So, she'd just collect the samples she needed, take as many readings as possible, and examine the results in more detail over the next few days of travel.

If she didn't find anything, then Alonzo need never know of this, and she promised herself she wouldn't entertain any further doubts.

And if she did find something... well, she wouldn't worry about that until she had to. In any case, his well-being was more important to her than his hurt feelings.

* * *

"Downshift, Morgan, for God's sake!" he bellowed. "Downshift!"

The TransRover made a grinding whiny sound that was not entirely unlike Morgan's speaking voice, ironically enough, then settled down as the man finally managed to shift the gears.

"Damn idiotic fool," Danziger muttered, settling back down into the DuneRail. "A child could drive that thing better than he can."

Neither Alonzo nor Julia responded, and Danziger glanced at the two of them in puzzlement. Both of them had been awfully poor company so far today. Maybe they'd had an argument, he guessed. Alonzo had seemed unusually groggy this morning, and Julia had been stifling yawns all day, occasionally nodding off in the back seat of the vehicle. But, on the other hand, there didn't seem to be any hostility between them, so it was more likely that they'd just been otherwise occupied last night. Though the two of them tried to be discreet, the camp was too small for most secrets and everyone was well aware that they'd been sharing sleeping quarters for some time now.

"We're making good time," he commented to Alonzo, hoping to draw out some conversation. "Yale says we should be out of these badlands within a few days or so."

"Badlands?" Alonzo echoed questioningly.

"You know, from the 'old old old west, pardner'."

Alonzo obviously didn't know. He shot a brief smile at Danziger. "I'm not **that** old, you know."

Danziger chuckled, then explained, "True and Uly have an 'old earth west' VR program they showed me yesterday. Looked a bit like this." He waved an arm at the rocky scenery. "True had got the bright idea that maybe she and Uly could run around and play their shoot-em-up games out here."

"That girl is fearless – you know that, Danziger?"

"Yeah, I know. Scares the hell out of me." He craned his neck to look behind him, caught sight of Uly and True leaning out the side of the TransRover, pointing and excitedly chattering over something they'd seen.

Better not be any more of those damn bird-things.

It wasn't. What had caught their attention was a particularly impressive stone column, colored in stripes made up of multiple layers of sand and sediment. Although Yale had explained the geological facts to the children in all precise detail, his overly scientific explanation didn't seem to have dimmed their enthusiasm for the rocks.

Further away, Danziger could see the dark flickers of movement in the sky, and he frowned, but at least they were far away. The winged creatures seemed to like to perch on the topmost rocks in the surrounding chain of cliffs. And while they'd come nosing around a few times after they'd taken Alonzo and Morgan on that unexpected ride, the creatures hadn't come too close ever since Danziger had fired a few shots into the air.

Which meant either that the creatures were somewhat intelligent, or that they were familiar with weapons fire. Danziger didn't know which explanation he preferred. But at least the things were keeping their distance now.

"Hey," he said, turning back around and looking at the instrument panel, "you're off course again."

Alonzo glanced at the readouts in surprise, then jerked the vehicle abruptly back on track. The sudden lurch woke Julia, who'd fallen asleep again in the back seat. "Sorry bout that."

"You're losing your touch, flyboy," Danziger teased. "That's three times this afternoon. With a sense of direction like that, it makes me wonder how you even got us to the right planet."

Alonzo smirked, glanced sideways at the other man. "You realize, of course," he commented, "that you have only my word for it that this actually is G889?"

"Okay, that's it. I'm driving."

"No you're not."

"I'm commandeering this vehicle."

"I outrank you."

"Maybe, but at least I can drive in a straight line," Danziger needled, pointing at the display with malicious glee.

Alonzo scowled at the offending instruments, easing the DuneRail back into the proper direction. "I could if you didn't keep distracting me."

"Distracting you?" Danziger leaned back, enjoying the situation immensely. "You scare me, pal. We're way out in the middle of nowhere, all rocks and dust. What's to distract you? I gotta tell you, Lonz, if you're piloting the colony ship back to Earthspace, I'm going to have to think twice about boarding."

"Fine with me," Alonzo replied, watching the display very intently, obviously bound and determined to stay precisely on course this time. "Colony ship's a lot larger. We won't need you for ballast on the way back—"

"Ballast—?" he sputtered.

"Please," Julia interrupted, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Please, please, please stop."

"The DuneRail? Or the witty repartee?" Danziger asked.

"Both. We've been driving all day. And listening to the two of you is giving me a headache. Are we going to stop and set up camp sometime soon? I want to get out of this vehicle."

"I want to get out, too," Danziger agreed. "In one piece, preferably—"

"Danziger," she said warningly.

"Okay, okay. Sorry. Yale expected us to reach a river crossing today," he said, more seriously. "Thought it would be a good place to camp for a day or two while he makes sure we're still on track. It shouldn't be too much further ahead. Should be running somewhat parallel to us—" He double-checked the instruments. "Hey, still on course! Good job, Lonz!"

"Shut up, Danziger," the other man retorted good-naturedly.

"—so if you want to keep a look-out for it," Danziger continued, "there's some jumpers there in the back seat."

Julia grumbled and muttered quietly to herself, but retrieved the jumpers and began scouring the horizon for the promised campsite. A good five minutes of weighty silence followed, and Danziger fervently hoped that Yale had been right about that river, because he was pretty sure that Julia was going to mutiny soon if it didn't appear.

"There," she said at last. "There's something over there."

Alonzo obligingly turned the vehicle in the direction she was pointing to. A small, gurgling river cut its way through the dusty ground, not really looking worth all the effort they'd spent in finding it. Still, it was as good a place as any to make camp.

Julia climbed awkwardly out of the DuneRail, obviously stiff and sore, and, with a huge yawn, informed Danziger that she was going to get samples of the water.

Danziger watched her go, chuckling a little to himself. "Maybe you ought to let her get at least a little bit of sleep tonight," he suggested. There was no reply from the other man, and Danziger turned to look at him. "Lonz?"

The pilot was staring intently off into the distance, sitting stock-still with his hands clenched tightly about the steering wheel. Danziger followed his gaze to a cluster of distant hills, searching the craggy peaks for whatever it was that had caught his attention, but couldn't see anything.

"What is it? Do you see something? Alonzo?" He nudged the other man, who jumped at the touch.

"Sorry," Alonzo muttered sheepishly, climbing out of the DuneRail. "It just seemed... familiar, for a minute. Can't quite place it."

"What looked familiar?"

"This place," Alonzo said, glancing around as though still somewhat puzzled.

"Huh." Danziger didn't really see anything to set this place apart from the rest of the landscape they'd been traveling through, with the possible exception of the scrawny river.

Something in the pilot's distracted countenance caught his attention, but before he had a chance to consider it any further, the TransRover had lumbered to a stop nearby. True leaped out and flung herself at him like some kind of human projectile, very nearly toppling him off his feet as she wrapped him in a hug.

"Dad," she gushed excitedly, "did you see the hoodoos? Isn't that a funny name – and Yale says they could be hundreds of thousands of years old! And that stone archway – did you see that!" He had to laugh; she didn't even wait for a reply, but launched into a detailed explanation of all the different kinds of rocks she and Uly had seen.

"True-girl," he said, gently interrupting the non-stop flow of words from his daughter's mouth, "this is all really interesting, and I want you to tell me all about it later, but right now I need to go help the others set up camp."

"Oh." For a moment, she seemed almost embarrassed by her enthusiasm, but Danziger found it refreshing. Until they'd come to G889, he hadn't really realized just how short True's childhood had been. From a very early age, she'd been expected to be a miniature adult, her education spent in learning about practical matters such as mechanics and circuitry and systems maintenance. That was the economic reality of life of the stations – at least for the drones – and it was the childhood Danziger had experienced, but it wasn't what he wanted for True. "Okay. Can I help you?" she offered.

"You sure can. But you know what?" he suggested, turning to look towards Uly. The boy was hovering on the perimeter of the group, watching as the adults began unloading the heavy equipment. "Why don't you find something that Uly can help out with?"

"Okay, dad," she nodded in perfect understanding. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't feel left out."

* * *

Morgan hopped out of the TransRover, and the sunny smile he met from Bess was almost enough to dispel the glower John Danziger had thrown his way.

Danziger, Morgan had decided, could always find something to be annoyed about. If Morgan was walking, he was slowing everyone up. If Morgan was riding, he should pull his own weight. If he drove too slow, he'd be complaining that Uly could walk faster, and if he drove too fast, he'd start shrieking about his engines. And people claimed Morgan was a pessimist!

Bess, on the other hand, was an effusive optimist, who seldom lost her good spirits. "Do you want help setting up our tent, honey?" As if it were a fun thing to do.

"Yeah, okay," he replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster in response. Tent-setting-up wasn't really his favourite activity. It was, however, a relatively individual task. Better by far than joining in the team efforts to set up the perimeter sensors, where he always seemed to be in the way. Reconsidering, he added, "You know what, Bess? I think I can manage on my own... I mean, if you want."

"Are you sure, Morgan?"

"Yeah, I can do it. I've done it before."

Not all by himself, by Bess tactfully chose not to mention that. "All right, Morgan. If you're sure." And when he nodded, she beamed a bright smile as if she were proud of him. "Then I'll be over there, helping Julia and Yale. If you need any help, let me know, okay?"

"Uh huh." He was already sorting through the poles and trying to unfold the tent fabric. Might take him a while, but at least it would give him time to think.

Bess turned to join Julia a short distance away. Morgan bristled inwardly as he saw Alonzo working nearby – the pilot was busy unloading the medical equipment from the Transrover and didn't seem to be paying any attention to either Julia or Bess... nevertheless, Morgan didn't like it. As far as he was concerned – not that anyone else cared about his opinion – the pilot was not trustworthy. Narrowing his eyes, Morgan kept watch.

And yet... Over ten days had passed since the whole unpleasant 'incident', and the whole watching-and-waiting strategy hadn't worked as well as Morgan had initially hoped.

Okay, not hoped. Expected. He'd expected that by now whatever-it-was would have happened. That Alonzo would have sprouted wings and turned into some kind of freakish bird-thing. Or that millions of those winged Terrian creatures would have come along, snatched them all up and eaten them, all while Alonzo stood by laughing maniacally. Something.

And though those awful flying things had swooped nearby a few times, Danziger and Baines had mostly been able to scare them off with a few shots from the heavy weaponry. They kept watch for them, and when the flocks ahead of them had appeared ominously thick, Yale had led the group on long, complicated detours that had now added several days to their travel. That made Morgan uneasy – he had the eerie feeling that they were being herded round and round in circles – but he much preferred avoidance to confrontation, and at least they hadn't seen much of the winged creatures in the past two days. The last time they'd flown overhead, Morgan had ducked down with fear, certain that it was his last moment, that they were going to catch him again and this time he wouldn't get away. But Alonzo had been almost oblivious to them, had glanced upward with mild curiosity and nothing more.

Was that odd? Or was Morgan the odd one for being so suspicious? Maybe it was part of his government-mindset. Maybe he'd learned to look for conspiracies and ulterior motives and half-truths because he'd had to. And maybe, by the same reasoning, Alonzo had learned to let go of those things and just go on, because that was the way things had worked in his corner of the world.

Maybe.

But Morgan still didn't trust him, not even when Alonzo finally grew tired of the uneasiness between them and went out of his way to apologize for whatever he'd inadvertently done, for somehow alarming him in some way, but obviously Morgan could see now that he'd been mistaken.

On the whole, Morgan considered it a bit of a backhanded apology, but then the pilot had never been one to waste his charm on the males of the species.

But Morgan Martin hadn't got to be a level four bureaucrat without learning a few tricks of his own. He'd put on his patented phony smile, shook Alonzo's hand and said whatever the other man wanted to hear. Yes, I'm an idiot. Yes, you were right. So glad we were able to resolve the situation. Thanks for being so understanding. Et cetera, et cetera.

After that, an almost palpable sense of relief had swept over everyone in the camp. Even Bess – his beautiful, naïve wife who trusted everyone – had said that she was glad all the unpleasantness was over. She was just happy to have him safe and everyone be friends again.

Morgan wished he could do that, pretended it was true. But that little suspicious corner of his mind was working overtime with a stubbornness that wouldn't let go. He just had to keep watch. Eventually, Alonzo would relax, let down his guard a little, and Morgan would find out once and for all what was really going on.

"Morgan!"

He snapped back to reality with a start. "What?"

Danziger was looking down at him, not exactly glowering anymore, but not exactly friendly either. He looked suspicious, like he figured Morgan was daydreaming. "I said, you've got that backward," he stated, nodding down at the connector that Morgan had been unthinkingly trying and trying to attach without success. "Turn it around."

"Oh," he said, turning it around, and it was a perfect fit. "Thanks." Best get his mind back on setting up this tent, or he'd have Danziger pitching in to help him.

* * *

"I don't think it goes that way," Uly said.

"It does so," True retorted, then stepped back to eye the canopy with a critical eye. The supporting pole she'd been working on did look a little lopsided, and the fabric roof was definitely lower in one corner. "Or maybe not... But if you'd help me instead of just criticizing all the time—"

"I wasn't criticizing – I was just saying."

"Well, stop saying and start helping."

With a beleaguered sigh, Uly hopped off the chair he'd been sitting on and trotted over to her side. "I think you need to put it in that bottom piece first," he suggested, pointing at the bracket on the ground. "Then the top."

'How would you know?' were the words that wanted to pop out of True's mouth, but she grudgingly looked again at the brackets, and then at the poles. "Maybe."

With Uly's help, the two of them removed the pole, and set it in place again as he'd suggested.

"I guess you were right," she admitted, eyeing the tent. "It looks much better now. We're done!" She glanced around camp, at the various centers of activity, and noticed Morgan Martin plodding away, putting up his own tent by himself. He was only halfway done. "Do you think we should go help Morgan?"

Uly glanced over his shoulder, then shook his head. "Nah."

Good. She hadn't really felt like doing more work anyway. After all, it was her job to keep Uly company, not to help Morgan. She kicked a toe at the sand, wondering what they could do now. "Do you miss your Mom?" she blurted out, before realizing a moment later that maybe that wasn't very tactful.

"Yeah," Uly replied evenly. "She's never been away before, not for more than a day or two. She's always been with me. Yale, too," he added.

"I've always been with my dad," True agreed, "as long as I can remember. I'm sorry your Mom isn't here. But she'll be okay until Julia can find a way to make her better, and then we'll all go back to get her."

"I know. And she really really wanted us to get to New Pacifica. Besides, the Terrians will look after her until we get back there."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"How?" she pressed. "Are there any Terrians here?"

Uly paused, seeming to consider that for a moment. "No... I mean, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. They just aren't."

True resisted the urge to become exasperated. There was no point in talking Terrians with Uly; either he talked wild tall tales that couldn't be true, or he gave short succinct replies that had no detail at all. Instead, she glanced around and seized upon a chance to change the topic. "Look, there's a whole bunch of rocks over there. Maybe we can find some like Yale was talking about. Do you want to go look?"

Uly seemed unusually hesitant. "Nah, I don't think so."

"Why not?" she asked in surprise.

He scuffed his feet aimlessly, and then shrugged. "I dunno. The ground feels funny. It makes my feet itch."

"It's called 'sand'," she snickered, "and if you'd lace your boots tighter, you wouldn't have that problem."

"I know what sand is," he retorted hotly. "And my boots are fine!" he said, kicking up a foot to show her his properly-laced footwear. "I just don't like it. I don't have to like it."

"I guess not," True agreed, though she couldn't quite repress a feeling of superiority. "But it **is** just sand," she added reasonably. "It isn't going to hurt you if we go exploring just a little bit—"

"No exploring tonight," Yale said, appearing abruptly on the scene and efficiently gathering each of them under his arms. "Come along, children," he said, herding them swiftly back into the centre of camp, "let's get you some supper, and then off to bed. You've both had a long day."

"What's the matter?" Uly asked, a few scant seconds before True could ask the same question. Both of them were well attuned to the behaviour of the adult team members and had quickly learned to recognize the array of subtle and not-so-subtle indicators of trouble.

"Nothing's the matter," Yale replied soothingly, a sure sign that something was wrong.

"But it isn't that late," True protested, "so why can't Uly and I look around a little bit?"

"Because he said so, True-girl," her father said sternly. She hadn't seen him standing there, and his tone was firm enough that she quickly swallowed any further arguments she might have had.

"You mustn't forget how quickly it gets dark here," Yale explained after a moment, "We're travelling through a deep canyon, and once the sun drops behind those mountains," he pointed up at the high cliff walls to the west, "it will seem like night down here much sooner. We need to be cautious – we wouldn't want anyone getting lost. Besides, you've both had a long day of travel – it's time for you to get some rest."

Not having much choice in the matter, both children obediently followed the tutor to their tent. Before ducking inside, True glanced over her shoulder to see the adults gathering in a tight knot around the campfire. Something was definitely going on.

* * *

Julia and Yale had assembled the group and were busy lecturing away, but Morgan was only half-listening to their explanation of why they shouldn't drink the water. Everyone else seemed mesmerized by the discussion – all Morgan had heard was 'contaminants' and 'trace particles' and 'toxic blah blah blah'. Making sure he wore his best I-am-listening expression, he was more focused on discreetly keeping an eye on Alonzo. One of the more useful bureaucratic talents he'd learned over the years was the trick of watching someone without looking like he was watching.

The pilot stalked restlessly back and forth on the perimeters of the group, to all appearances listening intently, but now and again he cast little glances off into the darkening sky. Morgan wondered just what it was he was watching for.

"Are you sure?" Alonzo said abruptly. "That doesn't make any sense."

And his words didn't make any sense to Morgan either, because he hadn't been listening. He decided it might be useful to tune in just a little.

"What, you mean someone's been here before us?" Danziger demanded, sounding more tense than usual. "Can you tell me what it came from? Vehicle, or—"

Julia cut off his question abruptly. "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't have anywhere near the amount of data that I'd need to even possibly identify the source of the contamination, much less enable me to determine how it was introduced into the water here. If it weren't for Yale's information banks, we wouldn't even be able to identify it as antriox."

"Antriox?" Morgan echoed without thinking, suddenly finding everyone's eyes on him. "You mean, the propulsion coolant stuff?" A few seemed surprised that Morgan actually recognized the word. "Interstellar used to equip their long-range ships with that," he explained, wishing he'd paid more attention to the conversation so that he knew exactly what everyone was talking about. "But it's been on the restricted list for years – it wasn't very stable, and the port authorities finally decided everyone should switch to hydroxelics, anyway."

"Exactly," Yale agreed evenly. "Which is why we believe the ship – whatever it is – was launched some time before Devon even identified G889 as habitable."

Danziger made a sound of deep exasperation. "Great. Just great. So we got another batch of penal colonists ahead?"

Morgan's spine stiffened with alarm.

"We cannot be certain of that," Yale cautioned. "As Morgan mentioned, it was commonly used at one time. It could be any type of ship."

"Yeah, but who knew about G889 back then? Only the Council," Danziger reasoned stubbornly. "No one else would be way out here. If you've found those chemicals contaminating the water, then that means there's got to be more of them ahead and—"

"I found trace elements only," Julia stated, firmly downplaying any sense of alarm. "And without knowing where the source of contamination is located, it's impossible to determine how diluted it is, how far away it is, what kind of equipment it's coming from. Even if I could tell you that, we don't know how long ago anyone else landed here, much less whether they're still alive and in the area."

"In any case," Yale added, "speculation is counterproductive. Our water supplies are more than adequate; as long as the contamination is localized to this area, it will not pose a threat. And until we move on, all of us will simply need to be aware that there may be some human activity in the area."

"W-w-what does he mean, 'human activity'?" Morgan asked Bess, suddenly feeling painfully vulnerable sitting out here in the open while they were talking about penal colonists and possible hostiles.

Obviously, he'd voiced the question a little more loudly than he should have, for Danziger snapped, "What part of the conversation didn't you understand, Morgan? Seems straightforward enough to me. Ships carry people?" he said, waving his hand about to illustrate, "ships land, people get out. Human activity. Got it?"

"Wouldn't hurt to take a few extra precautions while we're here," Walman suggested grimly. "Just about every other human we've run into has been trouble."

"Maybe that's because there weren't supposed to be any other humans out here," Baines muttered morosely.

Morgan blinked, pulling together the fragments of conversation. Antriox contaminants... in the river water? He didn't know a lot of details, but he did know that the chemical was not a natural occurrence. It had been a manufactured compound, highly complex and highly expensive. And if it was way out here, on G889, that must mean there was another ship around here somewhere. He glanced helplessly about, was unnerved to find Alonzo staring darkly at him.

And then realized that the pilot wasn't really looking at him, was just staring into space. Abruptly, Alonzo stirred. "The Roanoke," he said, looking to Danziger. "Some remnants of the ship might have survived the entry into the atmosphere, crashed somewhere around here."

"It's possible," Danziger replied, his expression easing somewhat as he considered it.

"No, it isn't," Morgan argued. "The Roanoke wouldn't have been equipped with antriox. I told you, it was prohibited—"

"Its use was prohibited in propulsion systems only," Alonzo retorted sharply, as though his credentials were being called into question. "Not from the sleep-ship components. Antriox **is **stable in long-term deep cold environments, and the Roanoke's cold sleep systems **were** equipped with it, Morgan."

Morgan's jaw tightened at the condescending tone, but he bit back any reply he might have made. The fact was, he wasn't an expert on the stuff. He only knew the regulations that had concerned his job, and the details of cold sleep systems had never been part of his purview. Much as he hated to concede the point, Alonzo was probably right – as pilot, he'd have known his ship better than anyone else.

With no further opposition from Morgan, Alonzo tried again. "Maybe we should take a look around – there might be something we can salvage—"

"Don't even think about it," Julia enunciated coldly, cutting Alonzo off before Danziger even had a chance to agree with him. "It's not safe. We don't know what's out there."

"But if it's the Roanoke," Alonzo attempted again.

"If it's the Roanoke," Morgan interrupted, unable to stop himself, "it's nothing but broken metal and fried circuitry. It's useless."

Alonzo turned a bitterly cold gaze upon him.

"Morgan's got a point," Danziger said with a sigh, as if it hurt him personally to have to agree. "It'll be burned beyond the hope of salvage. You're not gonna be able to get that thing to fly again. Still," he muttered speculatively, "I'd like to know for sure. It wouldn't hurt to do a little scouting in the area. Just to know whether or not there are any more penal colonists or ZEDs lurking out there."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Magus opined. "No sense in going looking for trouble – it seems to find us soon enough as it is."

"Yeah, and I'm sure all of us have learned our lesson and no one's going to be actively looking for trouble," Danziger replied, and Morgan wondered why he glanced pointedly in his direction. "All I'm saying is it wouldn't hurt to be sure. Forewarned is forearmed. Besides, we're stuck here for a day or two anyway while Yale tries to find us a way out of this maze."

Julia's eyes flashed, and Yale interceded quickly, obviously attempting to curtail any further arguments on the issue. "Let us adjourn this discussion until the morning," he suggested evenly. "It's growing dark, and there is nothing to be done at the moment. In the meantime, to be safe, I would suggest we take a few additional precautions. The perimeter alarms should be set to maximum. No one is to venture outside the camp until dawn, and we will have two people on watch at all times. I trust everyone is in agreement?"

No one objected, but Morgan noted that Alonzo turned on his heel in wordless annoyance to stare speculatively out at the darkening landscape.

"Morgan," Bess hissed, her arm wrapped tightly about his as the two of them headed back to their tent, "what does all this mean?"

He knew what she was asking, but it was guys like Danziger and Alonzo and Yale that were always there with the glib reassurances and ready answers. Morgan only knew what he remembered, and apparently nothing he remembered from the stations translated into anything useful here. "Whatever it is, it can't be anything good," he remarked bitterly. "Seems like nothing's ever good on this planet."

* * *

Though exhausted, Julia lay awake in the darkness, trying to force herself to fall asleep. Beside her, Alonzo lay quietly, apparently sleeping peacefully tonight. That surprised her.

After the meeting, he'd stalked restlessly around the perimeter of the camp before finally coming back to the tent in a foul temper. He'd been terse and angry and edgy, and when she confronted him, he'd denied it, said he was just tired. There'd been no reasoning with him, and she'd known better than to try.

But, in spite of his sour mood, he'd let go of the tension knotted within him and had dropped into a seemingly dreamless sleep with an ease that she sorely envied at the moment. Julia had tried to do the same, but it wasn't so easy for her. Maybe it was her skewed chromosomes, but some part of her had refused to stop thinking.

She was worried about Alonzo.

Although she'd spent almost all of last night awake, running as many tests as possible, she'd had no opportunity since to examine the results. The day had been spent almost entirely in travelling, and then she had to work a few hours more analyzing the unexpected oddities she'd found in the water.

In the few brief moments she'd had to examine Alonzo's tests, she'd found nothing extraordinary. Of course, it would help if she knew what she was looking for. Physically, Alonzo seemed perfectly healthy and unharmed. Psychologically... well, she did not have the proper medical equipment to accurately gauge that. Aside from the dreams that he never remembered, the dreams that seemed to be growing steadily more intense – and she was the only one who knew about that – the only other thing to give her pause was his behaviour this evening.

But on the other hand, when she thought about it, she realized that discussions about the Roanoke had always unsettled him a bit. Perhaps it was a lingering anger or sense of guilt about the crash.

Julia knew all about guilt. It still crept up on her, every now and again. Every time she made a mistake, every time she couldn't do what was asked of her, a part of herself wondered if the others doubted her. If they were still remembering how she'd deceived them, spied on them, betrayed them...

She'd been such a fool, almost lost everything...

Though she'd been forgiven, those memories were filled with a regret that she couldn't seem to put aside, a pain that still lingered within her.

And, as if that were not enough, there was the guilt of other failures to keep her awake at night: Devon was lying in cold sleep – left waiting farther and farther behind them with every step they took, every day that they travelled – because Eden Advance's only doctor hadn't been able to find out what was killing her, much less discover a cure. And Eben was dead.

And now Alonzo was... was... what? Dreaming strange dreams, refusing to confide in her? Perhaps she **was** overreacting, allowing Morgan's natural paranoia to rouse her own fears and insecurities.

Tomorrow, she promised herself. After the succession of winding detours they'd taken in the last few days, Yale needed time to verify their position and had called for a halt. So there would be time enough tomorrow to work and worry and find whatever answers she could.

Surely, it could all wait until tomorrow.

* * *

"Hey." Morgan was walking toward him, with an almost transparently forced smile on his face, and if he wasn't quite the last person Alonzo wanted to see, he still didn't really feel like having to deal with the bureaucrat today. But it didn't look like he was going to be able to avoid it. "I've been thinking about what you said last night," Morgan said, "and maybe you're right."

"What **I **said?" Alonzo echoed dubiously, recalling Julia and Yale doing most of the talking.

"About the Roanoke," Morgan prompted.

"Oh." Alonzo turned away, staring out at the empty landscape. "What about it?"

"Maybe you're right," Morgan repeated, beginning to sound exasperated. "Maybe it's out there."

"I think it's more likely that you were right," Alonzo replied mildly. "If she is out there, she's nothing but wreckage."

"Wouldn't you like to know for sure?"

'I already do,' Alonzo thought. He could do the math. He'd been a pilot long enough that he knew that the speed and weight of the ship coming down against the planet's atmosphere could only end one way. No matter how he tried to do the calculations, they all ended up with crashing and burning. He didn't need to see the ship's ruins to know that.

He hadn't been thinking last night – he'd just seized upon the idea that it was the Roanoke, the last piece of what he'd been before he'd been grounded, and he'd wanted to go out there and find it. It didn't really make sense, not when he thought about it, and Morgan had been right about that, at least. The ship had been fatally wounded when it went down.

"Why are you so interested?" he asked in return, and he could almost feel the tension jumping in the man next to him. Obviously, Morgan hadn't quite put away all of his fears as he had claimed to. Alonzo could feel the man's eyes burning suspiciously upon him, even without meeting his gaze.

"I... I just thought I might come along with you. If you wanted."

"What makes you think I'm going anywhere?"

"Well," Morgan said reasonably, "you've been standing here staring out there all morning."

A faint flicker of surprise sounded within Alonzo as he realized Morgan was right.

"And I thought that while Danziger's fixing the TransRover, and while Yale's doing ...whatever he does with the maps..., we might as well be doing something. You mentioned the Roanoke, and I thought... Or we could just go out and do some scouting," Morgan suggested, changing tack when Alonzo turned to look at him, obviously trying to gauge his mood. "Baines took the ATV and is checking out Yale's routes for tomorrow. But we could just kind of scout around other places. You know. Make sure there's no penal colonists."

"You and me?"

Morgan seemed to wilt a little bit, but said, "Why not?"

Alonzo eyed the other man. "How long are we going to keep doing this, Morgan?"

"K-keep doing what?" he asked, a hint of the nervous stutter entering his voice.

"You know what I'm talking about," Alonzo gritted with annoyance. "When do you stop looking at me like I'm some sort of security risk or time bomb or something? When do we go back to normal? What is it going to take?"

Morgan's face was pale. His mouth worked silently for a moment before he managed to say, "I don't know..." And then he recovered a little. "I thought I was over it, I really did, but now and then I just seem to... go back. I can't help it. So then I thought that while we're stuck here, maybe if I kind of spent a little more time around you, I'd be sure, and then it would just wear off. You know?"

Despite his irritation, Alonzo felt his lip twitch, then began to chuckle. Morgan joined in, laughing uncertainly, not having the slightest clue as to what was so funny. "Okay, Morgan. Sure. Whatever. You want to go out there, we go out. After this, though, I want to be able to look over my shoulder, and not see you watching me from behind a rock. Okay?"

"Uh... okay." And Morgan just stood there.

"You wanted to go scouting?" Alonzo prodded.

"D-do you?"

He resisted the urge to sigh heavily. "Sure, Morgan," and he tried not to let it sound too exasperated, "why don't we do that?"

"Okay."

"Great."

Morgan quivered a little bit, and looked nervously away. "I... I think I'll just tell Bess... that we're going. So they don't worry. O-okay?"

"Wonderful."

Morgan backed away, almost tripping over his heels as he hurried off to notify his next-of-kin of his whereabouts, and no doubt make arrangement for rescue should something go wrong.

"This could be a truly terrible idea," Alonzo murmured to himself, not sure how he should take Morgan's obvious, ongoing mistrust. It was like Morgan had expected him to grow another head or something. If all he had to do to convince Morgan he was wrong was drive around for one day with the other man in tow, Alonzo would count himself lucky.

Somehow, though, he doubted he'd be so fortunate.

Shaking his head, Alonzo made his way across camp. He found Danziger sitting atop the Transrover, almost casually rooting through a tangle of wires and circuitry. "Hey, Danziger. Morgan wants to go scouting – can we take the Rail?"

A snort. "You and Morgan? I thought the two of you weren't on speaking terms." A brief pause, and then a barely audible murmur, "Not that that's a bad thing."

"Yeah, I noticed." Alonzo shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's not such a good idea... but, I gotta admit, at least it's something to do. I'm getting antsy just sitting here waiting—"

"It was Baines' turn to go scouting," Danziger replied patiently, as if he were mediating an argument between True and Uly, "and you know how grumpy he gets when he doesn't get a chance to go out. I had to let him take the ATV. He already complains that you've gone more than anyone else—"

"I know, I know. It's just..."

Danziger chuckled, spared a moment to glance down at Alonzo. "Yeah, okay, go ahead and take the Rail. And if Morgan wants to go with you – great! I'm always glad to see him somewhere else. But I'm warning you – I just got that vehicle fixed. If you bring it back with even one dent, you're the one who'll be putting in the maintenance hours to fix it up again."

"Not a scratch," Alonzo promised. "Thanks, Danz."

"And stay out of trouble," Danziger called after him.

"Don't I always?"

A sputtering out-of-earshot response that probably wasn't at all complimentary, but Alonzo didn't mind. His step quickened with eagerness, and there was an inexplicable quiver of anticipation in him as he turned to look out at the jagged landscape. He was going out there. He was going. It had been almost all he could think of since they had stopped by the river – a yearning, a steady pull on his thoughts – and yet he hadn't fully realized it until this moment.

He frowned, faintly disturbed by that, but any qualms he might have felt were quickly smothered by the more powerful urge to go find whatever might be out there.

* * *

Alonzo was driving. Of course Alonzo was driving. Alonzo was the pilot – exactly why he figured that skill automatically translated to ground vehicles, he hadn't explained – and if Morgan didn't like it, he could damn well walk back to camp.

Okay, so he hadn't actually said that – not in so many words – but Morgan had got the message loud and clear.

So Morgan handled the scanning part of the scouting expedition, scouring the surrounding area for any hint of hostiles, or just anything weird in general. The idea had been alarming enough when it had been raised last night, but they'd been wandering around out here for several hours now, and Morgan was beginning to doubt Julia and Yale's dire predictions – so far, they hadn't seen anything but sand and rock. There had been nothing at all to report at the last check-in with the camp.

As for Alonzo... well, things hadn't started out too badly. He'd been tolerant, if not as friendly as usual. But as the morning stretched into afternoon, his mood seemed to have worn thin and he'd rebuffed Morgan's attempts at conversation.

Perhaps, Morgan reflected, he should have phrased some of his questions more circumspectly, because he'd obviously managed to offend Alonzo. For the last half-hour, Alonzo had been studiously preoccupied and had hardly opened his mouth the entire time.

Glancing at the instrument panel, Morgan noticed that they were heading in the same direction they had been for the last while. Peering through the jumpers, he supposed Alonzo was heading for the range of cliffs just ahead. There was a dark glitter to their peaks that Morgan assumed might be some kind of ore, maybe valuable. Normally, that thought would make his heart leap, but Alonzo's insistent silence was beginning to unnerve him.

"You got something you want to see on those cliffs?" he finally ventured to ask.

Alonzo threw him a dismissive look. "You're the one with the jumpers. **And** the MagPro."

Morgan felt an uncomfortable twinge at his tone of voice – obviously Alonzo hadn't overlooked how jealously close Morgan had been keeping the weapon. "Yeah, but you're the one who's been speeding off to the north-west for the last hour or so," he pointed out, pretending he hadn't heard the last comment.

Alonzo frowned, then shrugged. "Is there somewhere else you want to go? You're the boss."

Morgan didn't miss the sarcastic tone of voice. "Look, I am really not trying to antagonize you on purpose—"

"Well, you manage to do a pretty good job of it," he growled. "I just picked a direction, okay? If we're looking for whatever contaminated the water, it makes sense to follow the river, doesn't it?"

It did make sense. But just yesterday, Morgan had been in the TransRover following Alonzo, Danziger and Julia, and he'd noticed a decidedly north-western tilt to the DuneRail's course. In spite of the straight-west course that had been decided on. Probably better to not mention that now, though. "You're in a bad mood."

Alonzo laughed dryly. "Oh, and I suppose that's just proof that there's something wrong with me, isn't it, Morgan? Isn't it?"

Morgan swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"You're the one who wanted to come out here," Alonzo accused angrily. "You're the one who's sitting there, looking over my shoulder and second-guessing every move I make, and yes, it's really starting to piss me off. 'How come you want to go there, Alonzo'," he mimicked, leveling Morgan with a piercing gaze, "and 'Why are you doing that? You never used to do that before' and 'Keep an eye on him' and 'I don't think you should leave Uly with him' and 'How come you can't remember your goddamned dreams'—!"

Morgan was almost as alarmed by Alonzo's rapidly rising temper as he was by the fact that the other man wasn't paying nearly enough attention to his driving. "Okay, I really think maybe you should be watching where we're going—"

Alonzo slammed on the brakes, the DuneRail kicking up dust as it skidded wildly about and lurched to a halt. Morgan was sure he was going to have a bruise from where the seatbelts had seized up across his chest. But, in spite of his comment, there hadn't been anything directly in their path, no reason for Alonzo to stop so abruptly.

Alonzo sat with his head buried in his hands. "Are... are you okay?" Morgan asked tentatively.

"Yes." His voice was muffled. "No. I don't know. All of the above." He lifted his head, looked at Morgan, and there was an unexpectedly agitated look in his gaze. "I'm tired, Morgan. I'm tired of this. Can you understand that? What have I done that's so terrible?"

"I..." Morgan found himself almost at a loss for words, didn't know how or where he could begin to explain. Everything had been said and done already. "I'm sorry," he offered, and this time he meant it. "It isn't you... It's whatever happened..."

"Then why can't I remember it?" he asked forlornly. "If you're right, why can't I remember?"

"I don't know." It was such an inadequate thing to say, and Alonzo seemed to crumple at the words.

"Julia says I have bad dreams," he murmured, almost sadly. "And I wanted to come out here. Needed to. I can't explain it. But I feel it, even now. I don't want to, but I feel so..." He covered his face again. "Oh god... maybe there is something wrong with me."

Morgan didn't know what to say.

"I keep thinking of the Roanoke going down. It's been in my mind all day. And Danziger's friend... that Wentworth woman... she didn't even realize what she'd done."

"Wentworth?" Morgan couldn't quite follow the jarring turn of the conversation. "I don't understand. What's she got to do with any of this?"

"You don't understand anything, Morgan," Alonzo retorted, but without much rancor. "You never do." For a few moments longer, Alonzo simply stared at the ground, lost in thought, then abruptly unbuckled himself and climbed out of the DuneRail. "We should go back," he decided, walking around to Morgan's side of the vehicle. "You drive."

"A-are you sure?"

For a moment, Alonzo visibly wavered, obviously torn. And then he seemed to steel himself, forcing the words out: "Yeah, I'm sure." Alonzo paused as his gear set beeped, and quickly put it on.

Morgan climbed out and made his way to the driver's side, listening to the conversation with half an ear. It was the camp, checking up on them. Probably Julia again, he decided, judging from the soft tone of Alonzo's voice. She'd called several times already. Alonzo didn't have too much to say to her, just that they hadn't found anything, that they were coming back, and that they'd talk about it when they got back.

"Everything okay back there?" he asked tentatively when Alonzo had signed off.

"Yeah. Let's get going."

"Are you sure about this?" Morgan prodded, although a part of him couldn't imagine why he was arguing, unless it was in some vague way intended to make the other man feel better. He hadn't expected to feel so guilty about being right. "We came all this way... we're pretty close to those cliffs now. We could probably find out what's contaminating the river. Look, there's a lake. And you can even see a waterfall way over there."

Alonzo didn't seem at all enthused by the suggestion – for which Morgan was secretly grateful – but he did turn to look. And then stood transfixed as he regarded the distant waterfall with a rapt attention that was all out of proportion to the unexceptional sight.

"Alonzo?" No answer.

And as Morgan followed Alonzo's gaze, he realized with horror that the blackness atop those cliffs was most definitely not ore or mineral. It was the black glimmering shadows of those creatures, fluttering and shifting and slowly beginning to take to the air.

"Oh my god," he breathed. "Alonzo," he said more urgently, but the man wasn't hearing, was instead walking away from him, walking towards the faraway cliffs. Morgan grabbed the MagPro and ran around the vehicle, seizing Alonzo by the arm. "We've got to get out of here—!"

Alonzo broke free and whirled upon him. His eyes were empty, alien, and, as he took a step toward Morgan, he literally hissed at him.

Terrified, Morgan swung the heavy weapon like a club, catching Alonzo squarely on the side of his face. The force of the blow spun Alonzo around, actually knocked him to the ground.

"Oh no. Oh no. I didn't... I..." Morgan stared in horrified fascination, hardly able to believe what he'd just done.

The blow had opened a gash across Alonzo's cheek, but he was oblivious to it, was too intent on slowly trying to pull himself back up onto his feet.

Retreating a few steps, Morgan powered up the MagPro to point it threateningly at Alonzo. But what would he do if that threat didn't work? He wasn't actually going to shoot the man... was he? The gun quivered as his hands began to tremble. "Just stay there," he menaced, "don't come any closer..." Idiot. That didn't make any sense. He had to get Alonzo back to camp.

Alonzo tottered unsteadily on his feet. "M-Morgan..."

He lowered the weapon a fraction. And then he noticed the mangled fragments of equipment around Alonzo's face. The gear. He'd still been wearing the gear set when Morgan struck him. They'd only brought the one set. And it was smashed now. Useless. That meant they couldn't even call the camp for help. And they'd just checked in – the others wouldn't be expecting to see them for another two or three hours; they'd never know anything was wrong.

"All right," he gritted, trying to keep down the rising panic, "just keep calm. Keep calm. We're getting out of here. Get in the vehicle, Solace."

The pilot just stood there, made a noise that didn't really sound like it belonged in a human throat, and then tumbled awkwardly down to land in a sitting position.

Morgan felt like shrieking with frustration. Why did everything have to be so difficult! He definitely did not want to have to hit Alonzo again, but he also didn't trust him enough to want to get within reaching distance either. However, Alonzo wasn't giving him a lot of options.

He looked over his shoulder. So many dark wings in the sky. They were coming for them.

Morgan was an enthusiastic gunman, but not a particularly accurate shot. And there were far too many creatures for him to possibly hold off with one weapon.

With a despairing moan, he dropped the gun and picked Alonzo up as best he could, dragging him over to the vehicle and stuffing him inside as quickly as possible. By that point, the other man seemed almost catatonic, but, just to be on the safe side, Morgan found a short length of rope and swiftly wound it around his wrists. Alonzo didn't react at all.

Running back to retrieve the MagPro, Morgan then leaped back into the DuneRail, gunned the motor and spun the vehicle around, heading back toward the camp as fast as he could.

* * *

"Julia? Sorry to interrupt you..."

"No problem, Bess," she replied, looking up from her equipment scopes as the other woman entered her tent. "What can I do for you?"

"Danziger said you spoke to Alonzo and Morgan?"

"I spoke to Alonzo, yes," she confirmed. "He said that he and Morgan hadn't found anything, and that they were heading back to camp. Why? Is there something wrong?"

"Well," Bess began, almost sheepishly, "Morgan **specifically** asked me to monitor the gear beacon while he was away. I think he's still a little... nervous... after what happened before. He said that he'd feel better if I knew where he was, and that I should have my gear set up to receive their gear beacon. So I did, but I just lost the signal a little while ago."

"You lost the signal?" Julia repeated. "When?"

"I'm not sure," Bess admitted, obviously embarrassed. "I only stepped out of my tent for a little while, a few minutes at most. Just to break up an argument between Uly and True. They were getting so loud that I went over to see if I could help. They were arguing... something about the sand?" With a shrug, she shook off her puzzled look. "Anyway, my gear set. I wasn't watching it the whole time, but sometime after I got back, I realized I'd lost the signal. Do you think something's wrong?" she asked, growing anxious as Julia moved to retrieve her own gear.

"I spoke to them not too long ago," Julia said, flashing a reassuring smile as she began to put the headset on. "I'm sure nothing's wrong, but it doesn't hurt to check."

Over the course of the morning, Julia had run every test she could think of on the samples she'd taken from Alonzo, and so far she hadn't been able to find anything physically wrong with him. And yet, even with the lack of any concrete proof, she'd found herself slowly beginning to agree with Morgan. Something wasn't right, even if she couldn't see it, couldn't name it or understand it.

But she couldn't base her decisions on such irrational feelings, and so when Morgan had willingly agreed to go scouting with Alonzo today, she'd put aside her misgivings and had simply checked in with them quite regularly. Alonzo had seemed unusually subdued when she'd last spoken to him, but it hadn't concerned her too much until this moment.

Activating her gear, she tried to contact Morgan or Alonzo, but the same error message flashed repeatedly: 'Transmission failure – unable to establish communications link'.

Julia felt her smile grow a little bit hollow, but her voice was even as she suggested, "It could be a mechanical problem. I'll go talk to Danziger."

* * *

The DuneRail flew over the rough ground at speeds it was never meant to attain. But over the last few months, Danziger had tinkered and tweaked with the engines, making a few modifications here and there, until the vehicle could almost fly. The downside, of course, was that the safety specs went out the window at these kinds of speeds. If Morgan hit anything, he knew he was probably going to be very sorry.

However, at the moment, the dangers of driving too fast weren't exactly foremost in his mind. He sped wildly through the rugged landscape as though he were navigating one of his VR simulations, fervently hoping against hope that Danziger's tinkering was going to hold out, and that the engine wasn't going to overheat from the stress.

"Morgan," Alonzo croaked, the first sound he'd made since they'd started driving back, and even the sound of his voice startled Morgan, "there's something wrong—"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the vehicle lurched violently with the sound of an explosion. Morgan struggled frantically to keep control, the DuneRail careening and swerving crazily. He thought he had it – he almost had it – and there was another crackling sound, and the vehicle spun wildly. Trying to avoid the biggest rocks, he slammed on the brakes, and there was a terrifying moment where he actually thought the vehicle might flip over. It didn't, but slid to a halt with a bumpy finality.

What the hell had just happened?

Morgan glanced at Alonzo – he seemed dazed but unhurt – then grabbed the MagPro and crept around the side of the vehicle. "Oh my god," he muttered, awed at the dark scorch marks on the side of the DuneRail, the almost melted tire. "Danziger is going to kill us." If they lived that long, anyway.

The barest flicker of movement caught his eye, and he whirled, pointing the MagPro before he even knew what he was facing. A Terrian. A Terrian stood nearby with staff in hand. Relief flooded through him. "Alonzo – your Terrians have come to help!"

Too late.

A dark shape dropped from the sky, heading straight for him. Activating the MagPro, Morgan aimed it toward the creature, only to have the weapon blasted out of his hands. The Terrian's staff flickered with energy, and Morgan realized abruptly that the Terrian hadn't come here to help them at all.

Several of the winged creatures had landed atop the DuneRail, and several more were whirling in the air immediately overhead, craning their heads to peer down at Morgan. Staggering backwards, Morgan flung his hands protectively over his head, wanting to flee, but not knowing which way to go. Alonzo howled wordlessly – Morgan realized that the other man was trapped in the vehicle; he'd tied his wrists, and now Alonzo couldn't even reach the release mechanism for the seatbelt.

Before he could do anything – run to help or run away – and to be honest, at that moment, he still wasn't sure which of the two it was going to be – the Terrian fired again, and this time the electrical current struck Morgan squarely in the chest. He toppled over, felt himself beginning to lose consciousness, and fervently hoped that when he woke again, he'd be lucky enough to find himself still alive.


	3. Chapter 3

They touched him, and a spike of memory drove through his mind with blinding intensity – everything else that was happening faded from his conscious mind.

Alonzo Solace was remembering.

That first day Morgan had seen the flying creatures. The moment when one of them had brushed a dry winged touch against his skin. That burning, startling instant of clarity. That touch had been a revelation he had scarcely comprehended at that moment.

And in the next moment, it had been too much.

Many voices. Many points of contact. All words blurring, all racing, all pouring at once into the single mind like a tidal wave.

_/ you come / the keening of lost things / they said you would come / winged and glory air / sickness and wasting / the Terrians promised us / you will help / our flying, our being / dying / grieving / help us / help help / us / you / must / hear us / help us /_

More imagery than words, but it was words, too, in a way he could not wholly comprehend. Like the Terrians, whom he understood, but had never quite been able to explain just how he understood. Unlike the Terrians, this communication was of a more physical kind – a kind of telepathy through touch – and it seared through neural pathways with a speed and volume and intensity that the human body was not made to withstand. His body had rebelled against it.

It had tasted like burning, like regret, like the strange, softly alien taste of Terrian dream planes, like all those ephemeral things that had no substance. It made no sense, and he/they had been able to feel his mind shutting down, shutting them out in self-preservation.

_/ this must stop /_

And he was never quite sure if that was his thought or theirs – the boundaries between them had grown so thin – but they had suddenly vanished with a resounding silence, a deafening emptiness. He was alone, glad, grateful. Stunned, and falling into unconsciousness.

But there were echoes, somewhere deeper in his mind, beneath that conscious level, that his mind did not know how to purge, maybe could not, and they were playing over and over and over again, _/ come / help us / help help / us / you / must / hear us / help us /_

* * *

When Morgan Martin awoke, his one consolation was that he was still alive.

His eyes opened to a desolate expanse of rock and sky. From what he could see, he was lying on an outcropping of stone, high upon the cliffs. Far below, the canyons stretched like a dizzying maze. "We're up high again," he moaned despairingly. It was like being caught in a bad dream that kept running over and over. "I hate being up high." Sitting up, he glanced around, looking hopefully about for the MagPro or something else to arm himself with. Of course, it wasn't there. Oddly enough, the Terrian staff was. With a convulsive twitch of his leg, Morgan kicked it away. Vividly remembering that it had last been used to attack him, Morgan didn't dare touch it.

On the other side of him, Alonzo was sitting nearby, the gash on his cheekbone darkened to a deep purple, and he was struggling without much success to free his wrists from the rope still wrapped about them. "It's about goddamned time you woke up," he muttered darkly. "You want to untie this now?"

"I don't know!" Morgan snapped anxiously. "Are you gonna weird out on me again, go all alien or something?" He stabbed an accusing finger in the other man's face. "I **knew **there was something wrong with you! I just knew it! And look where we are now – we're way out in the middle of nowhere... again! This is all **your **fault! This is ridiculous! This is impossible! This is—"

"Morgan, for god's sake, just shut up before I kick you off the cliff," Alonzo growled.

With a fearful glance over his shoulder, Morgan hastily scuttled away from the edge and further away from Alonzo.

Alonzo sighed, dropping his head. "Look. I didn't mean that—"

"Yeah, well that's exactly the problem! You've been wandering around, pretending you're your usual cocky, arrogant self, and the next time I turn around, you're going into trances and spouting alien gibberish. So how do I know when you're really you?" Morgan knew he was freaking out. He always knew when he was doing it – he just had a hard time reining it back in once he really got going.

He stood abruptly, a chill shuddering through him as he realized some of those bird-Terrian-things were perched not too far above. They were clinging to the cliff face at almost impossible angles, heads craning to peer down upon them with large glittering eyes. Their wings made dry rustling sounds that made his skin crawl.

"Those things—! Those things are still here—!" he hissed frantically.

Alonzo didn't seem too impressed, tried grabbing at the rope around his wrists with his teeth. "Yeah, I know," he muttered almost unintelligibly. "How did you think you got up here?"

"What are they doing here?"

"They live here, Morgan."

"I mean..." Morgan sputtered briefly, then threw a glare at Alonzo. "You know what I mean! What do they want?"

The other man stared coolly at Morgan, as if debating whether or not he should tell him, then finally admitted, "I think they're waiting for me."

"What the hell is going on, Solace?"

"They... they need our help."

There was an uncertainty to the pilot's tone; Morgan wasn't sure if it was because he was hiding something, or if he honestly wasn't certain himself. "Then why didn't they just ask for it?" he challenged.

"They did. I just... didn't understand. Morgan," Alonzo sighed heavily, "would you please get this rope off me **before** I lose the use of my hands?"

He paused, having to consider the request for a moment. "O-okay." And he really hoped he wasn't making a fatal mistake. He eyed the discarded Terrian staff discreetly, wondering if he could use it as a weapon if he had to. Fortunately, Alonzo didn't seem to have noticed it there. Morgan moved in front of it, blocking it from view. "But if I do, you have to tell me what's really going on. Explain everything." Alonzo nodded, and Morgan began to work on the knotted cord.

"Did you have to tie it so tight?" Alonzo winced.

"It wasn't that tight before," Morgan replied. "You shouldn't have been yanking on it."

"I wanted to get loose. Besides, who knew that you'd know how to tie a rope properly?"

"You know, I'm not a complete idiot, Solace," he retorted, finally managing to loosen the knots and pull the cord free. "Bess showed me how." Alonzo actually chuckled a little at that, and it was the first bit of genuine good humor Morgan had received from him since before this whole thing started.

Rubbing his wrists, Alonzo fumbled for the gear set dangling around his neck. He frowned in puzzlement, obviously surprised to find it smashed, and then brushed a hand against his cheek, wincing. "Ouch. Damn it. When did—?" His eyes narrowed. "Morgan, did you hit me?"

"Uh..." His mind went blank. Definitely too long a pause. "Not hard," he lied. "It was... kind of an accident. And the gear set got broken, too. Sorry."

Alonzo shot him an exceedingly dirty look, then flung the ruined gear set aside and began muttering darkly under his breath about accidents.

"I'll try to fix it," Morgan offered quickly, gathering up the broken gear set and putting the pieces in his pocket, even as Alonzo snapped angrily, "With what?"

Not having an answer for that question, Morgan decided it was obviously time to change the subject. "So," he said, peering uneasily upward at the watching bird-things, "you gonna tell me what's going on?"

* * *

It was hard to explain.

But he tried anyway, tried to translate those strange images now flooding through his mind. Beings that were not quite Terrian – maybe once, long ago, but not now – and yet, they knew of the Terrians. Something had happened, some disaster had befallen their flocks – Alonzo was still not quite able to comprehend exactly what it was – but they had waited a long time for help. And a promise had been made – the human-creatures could help them, would help them... All of those images had been seared onto his mind when the creatures had first touched him, trying to communicate. But there had been too many of them, all too needy, too anxious, too demanding, and his conscious mind hadn't been able to handle it.

It was all of those things that he didn't have words for; spoken aloud, it was awkward and uncomfortable and sounded like raving. Like a madman trying to explain that yes, he really was sane. He knew that was how it sounded, even without seeing the expression on Morgan's face.

"How do you know all that?" Morgan asked, in that wary tone of voice he always used when he wasn't sure he believed the answers he was getting.

"It's a bit like... like trying to speak to the Terrians, except that it's... more physical. Through touch," he tried to explain, but obviously, it didn't help Morgan much. "They were just trying to communicate when they grabbed us."

"And you didn't remember any of it?" the other man asked with that ever-present edge of suspicion, but Alonzo really couldn't fault him for it at the moment. "So how come you know it now?"

Until the memories had abruptly resurfaced, he hadn't even been aware that the knowledge was there. "When we stopped to make camp yesterday, the area seemed... familiar, somehow." And from that moment, he now realized, he'd been wanting to come out here, to search... not for the Roanoke or for penal colonists, but out of a need to find this place. "When I saw this place, it suddenly made a connection. It triggered... something," he said, not quite able to explain what it was he felt moving inside him. "I started to remember."

"Why?"

Alonzo frowned, trying to sift through the jumbled memories now settled uneasily within his conscious mind. No clear answer came to mind. "They need our help—"

"So what—?"

"The Terrians promised them we would help, Morgan—"

"Again," Morgan exclaimed, throwing up his hands, "I say so what! Maybe the Terrians should have asked first. And even then, you can still say no. Since when do the Terrians give us orders? And where is it written that every alien species can come along and say 'hey, help us out with our problems!'? As if we don't have enough to worry about around here. Maybe they need to fix their own problems and just leave us alone."

It didn't work that way. It hadn't, not since they'd first set foot on G889. Humans had been here, had left their mark on this world, and for that fact alone, there was an implied debt.

And then there was Uly. In their first few days on this planet, the Terrians had healed him, and Devon had promised them 'anything' for that help. Even without knowing the price, she had promised anything and everything. Alonzo didn't blame her for her decision, and he didn't think it was the wrong decision. But the price kept rising, and the debts kept increasing. Maybe that was why she now lay in cold sleep, weeks of travel behind them. Perhaps one of those promises had come due.

Not one of them, he realized, not one of them would leave this planet unchanged.

Morgan sighed in exasperation. "You're gonna help them, aren't you? You've got that stupid look on your face again."

Alonzo felt his annoyance flare, but he didn't bother to respond to Morgan; instead, he glanced upwards at the winged beings who were restlessly waiting above. Waiting for him to follow.

"What is it with you!" Morgan snapped. "You get such a kick out of playing hero that you'd rather risk both our lives than do the intelligent thing and find a way out of here? Are you crazy? Do you honestly trust those things?"

Honestly...? He didn't know. But he had learned to trust the Terrians. And the Terrians wanted him here... didn't they? He'd felt their presence in his mind, in the half-instant before they struck out. They had deliberately disabled the DuneRail to prevent them from leaving. There had to be a reason for that. But there was a blurry edge of uncertainty to those thoughts that he couldn't quite explain – an echo of the uneasiness he might have felt within the Terrians.

"I don't have any choice, Morgan," he gritted, with a certainty he didn't completely understand. He got to his feet. "No one said you had to come along."

"Oh sure; I'll just camp out here. Or, better yet, climb down to the melted DuneRail – wherever that actually is – and roll it back to camp." His voice was miserable. "I guess I'm supposed to be grateful that your Terrian buddies left us a walking stick."

Walking stick? But before Alonzo even had a chance to ask what Morgan was going on about now, there was the rippling sound of wings dropping through the air, and a dark-tinged shape alighted next to them. The tall winged being drew itself up, peering intently at the two of them over its mottled gray wings. The dark eyes were like glass – expressionless and empty. Instinctively, Alonzo retreated a few steps.

"Do you even know what they want?" Morgan hissed, hovering safely behind him, the cliff wall at his back. "Can you talk to them," he suggested in his next breath, "ask them if they'll let us go? Maybe... maybe they'll take us back if **you** ask..."

The creature extended a wing toward him, an invitation to communicate.

He didn't want to. Not now that he remembered just how the touch had burned, how the chaotic language of their minds had pressed almost unbearably upon his own. But, as if responding to a subconscious cue, he stood rooted to the spot, and stretched out his hand.

"Alonzo," Morgan's voice issued timidly, "are... are you sure you want to be doing that—?"

As he touched the wingtip, Alonzo gasped, doubling over, an icy, acid-eating pain cutting at him from within. Pain.

And sorrow. Sorrow almost as hot and burning as the sickness. He felt the tears leaking from his eyes. The young ones, all dying, the children, oh no, all the children dying. A wracking sob ripped from his lungs.

Must be stopped, must be made whole, must be. The death that is not part of the cycle, the death that comes too soon, the sickness that comes from outside, from elsewhere.

Distantly, he heard Morgan's voice, felt the other man's grip on his shoulders, forcibly pulling him away. With the physical link broken, the pain stopped, the voices and the images stopped, but all of it continued to reverberate through his mind.

* * *

"Yale..."

He'd been in the middle of a data search, examining the past geographic surveys for possible routes beyond these canyons and further on to New Pacifica, when he abruptly became aware True's voice calling him, the faintly strident tone enough to break his concentration. Disengaging from his internal contemplation of the data libraries, he lifted his eyes to see True peering in the open door of his tent. "Yale...?"

"Yes? What is it, True?"

"Um... can you come get Uly?"

That was an odd request. "Why?" the cyborg asked, setting aside the maps and rising to his feet with a feeling of faint alarm. "Is there something wrong, True?"

"I don't know." The young girl seemed a little uncertain. "He's acting funny. He was asking for you."

"Very well. Where is he?"

"Just outside. Not far." True led him a short distance away, and Yale was relieved to see Uly sitting on a small boulder, waiting for them. "We were just playing," True explained, "and then he climbed on the rock and he wouldn't come down. He said he wanted you to come get him."

"Uly?" Yale called as they drew nearer. The boy was seemingly unharmed, but made no move to climb off the boulder, patiently waiting for Yale. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Uly replied, "I'm okay. But I don't want to walk back. I don't like it here," he stated plaintively. "I think I'm allergic to the sand." With that cryptic remark, he held up his hands, palms out, for Yale's inspection. The skin was discoloured to a vivid red.

Yale suppressed an expression of surprise, well aware that Uly would be watching him closely. "When did this happen?" he asked, gently examining Uly's blistering palms, then quickly took True's hands. Hers were unblemished. "Where were the two of you playing?"

"Just around here," Uly said, and True added, "We didn't go outside the camp at all."

Casting a glance around at the surrounding area, Yale couldn't see anything but the innocuous and ever-present expanse of rocks, sand and small scrubby plant-life. "Did you touch anything unusual – any of those plants? You didn't go near the river?" Both children shook their heads. "And your feet hurt as well?" he prompted Uly.

"Yeah, kind of," Uly shrugged. "But not so much as my hands. It's just itchy."

"So what do you think it is, Yale?" True queried, nervously clutching at her own hands.

"Well... it appears to be some sort of skin irritation," Yale replied evenly, not wanting to alarm either child. "Don't worry, Uly. We'll have Julia take a look at you – I'm sure she'll have something to make you feel better." Carefully, he gathered the little boy into his arms.

"I'll go tell her you're coming," True said, and was off and running toward the medical tent before Yale had finished picking up Uly.

"You know," Uly confided to Yale, in a tone of deep exasperation, "I told True that I was allergic to the sand, but she wouldn't listen."

* * *

Julia's face was set in the familiar mask of professionalism, which she lightened now and again with a smile at Uly, but Yale could detect the concern beneath the expression. She passed her diaglove over his outstretched hands several times, even after she'd sprayed the blistered palms with medication.

"How are your hands feeling now?" she asked.

"Better," Uly decided. "They don't itch any more. Are they going to stay red like this?"

"No, they should improve by tomorrow. But you're going to have to be a little more careful tonight. No running around with True until I say so. The skin is very irritated right now, and it needs to rest to get better, okay?"

"That's okay," he decided after a moment's consideration. "I don't want to go outside any more. I don't think it's very good for me."

"Apparently not. Uly," she ventured, "are you sure you and True didn't find something unusual while you were playing today? Something you might have touched, even if only for a moment?"

"No. There isn't very much out here," he informed her. "It's kind of a boring place. It's all empty. Even the Terrians don't come here. They say it's cursed."

"The Terrians say?" She continued moving around Uly, making small adjustments to her diaglove as she went. "When were you talking to them?"

"Um, this afternoon, I think," Uly stated casually, as if it were an entirely unremarkable topic. "One of them was somewhere in the valleys here – but he couldn't stay, so he went away again. But I – Ow!" He jerked sharply as Julia touched his back. "That hurts!"

"What's wrong?" Yale asked, stepping near.

"There's blistering on your back as well, Uly," Julia stated, letting Yale step near to see. The rash wasn't nearly as severe as it had been on Uly's hands, but there was a noticeable reaction. "How did that happen?"

"True put a handful of sand down my shirt," he said petulantly. Yale exchanged an incredulous glance with Julia. It seemed preposterous, and yet both Uly and True were resolutely maintaining their stories – they hadn't gone anywhere and they hadn't touched anything; they'd just been playing outside, in the dust and the sand. "This is all her fault! When Mr. Danziger gets back, I'm going to tell on her, and then she's really going to get it—"

"Now, now, Uly," Yale interceded as Julia began to spray another treatment on the boy's back. "You shouldn't be angry with True. There was no way she could have known that this would happen."

"But I told her not to! And she still threw the sand at me!"

"She told me that she did that after you threw a rock at her," Yale countered sternly.

"But she told me she was collecting rocks," Uly replied in an eminently reasonable tone of voice, even though he squirmed a little bit under Yale's gaze. "I was just giving her one I found..."

"Uly," Julia interrupted, "I'm going to give you something that will help you heal while you sleep tonight. That way, you should be mostly recovered by morning. But you're still going to have to be careful – if it is the sand that's bothering you, we can't have you going outside. It's very important that you to check with either Yale or me before you go anywhere, okay?"

"Okay."

She pressed the injector against his neck. "There you go. You'll be all better in no time." Glancing at Yale, she walked to the counter, starting to remove her diaglove and put her medical tools away.

Yale moved to join her. "Well?" he murmured. "What is it?"

"It's exactly what it appears to be," she replied in an undertone, "a violent inflammation of the skin. It isn't serious," she reassured him, "and with the treatment I've given him, the rash should subside overnight and disappear completely within a day or two. I included a sedative in his medication, just to help him sleep through the night so that he doesn't scratch at the skin while it's healing. What disturbs me is that I can't find the cause of the irritation. As it is localized in specific areas, I presume an external cause, and yet there's no trace of anything unusual on his skin."

"Could it be some after-effect of the Syndrome?"

"I thought of that," she admitted. "But if so, it's nothing I've encountered before. However, as Uly is the first Syndrome-child to be cured, I don't have any precedents to refer to. Still," she frowned, "he's shown no symptoms at all before this, no indication of any after-effects. I'm more inclined to think that it has something to do with our surroundings."

"I see." He considered the possibilities. "Perhaps this area may be more contaminated than we anticipated?"

"No." She shook her head, still deep in thought. "No, the contamination levels are low – and I ran the tests more than once to confirm that. Long-term exposure would be a problem, but that would take months. I suppose it is possible that Uly might be more sensitive to the contamination than we are. It may actually be the sand that is bothering him. Past incidents have shown that Uly is linked more closely to the Terrians and to this planet than are the rest of us."

"Yes, you may be right. And Uly did mention the Terrians..." Yale turned back toward Uly to question him further, but the boy's eyes were closed, and he was slumped against the side of the chair he was sitting in. Already asleep. He made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow, especially in view of the fact that the Terrians – except for the winged variety – seemed to have been conspicuously absent from this area. "Do you know if Alonzo has experienced any Terrian dreams since we ventured into this area?"

His query seemed to jolt Julia from her thoughts, and she seemed almost startled. "No," she recovered quickly. "No Terrian dreams."

Yale recognized the taut expression on her face as worry. "I take it there has been no word yet from Alonzo or Morgan?" he asked gently.

"No. Not yet," Julia replied, glancing at the open doorway. The late afternoon sun was visibly dropping through the sky, and the two men should have returned by now. "Danziger and Walman have gone out to search for them. I told Bess it was probably nothing," she said, "just a gear failure, or something like that..."

"We have no reason to believe otherwise."

Julia surprised him by shaking her head. "I'm not so sure. I'm a doctor – I'm supposed to be able to gather conclusions from the symptoms I see. In their own way, both Uly and Alonzo have a connection to this planet..." Her voice trailed off, and she turned a pensive look towards the young boy. "You should take Uly to bed. He won't wake until morning."

"I will. Thank you, Julia." Briefly, he put his hand on her shoulder, trying to offer some reassurance. "Let me know if you need any assistance."

* * *

Not for the first time, Danziger silently cursed the bad luck that had left all of them stranded on this planet with only three vehicles. It was too few, even for a group as small as they were.

With Alonzo and Morgan apparently gone missing along with the DuneRail, he'd had to get Baines to double-time it back to camp with the ATV. Although the small vehicle was much quicker than the ponderous TransRover, Danziger didn't want to push it too hard, especially since it had already put in a full day's work. The last thing he needed was to burn out the engine before he found the two missing men.

"Something coming up on the scanners," he shouted over his shoulder. "Looks like the DuneRail, just ahead." The ATV rattled along as Danziger steered it over the uneven ground as quickly as he could without dislodging Walman, who was clinging to the back end of the vehicle in a standing position. It couldn't be a very comfortable ride, but Walman bore it without complaint.

The valley twisted round like a maze, disorienting in that every turn seemed to reveal the same landscape ahead as behind. Rocks and dust and that wandering, stunted river. Obviously, Alonzo had gone looking for that downed spaceship that Julia thought must have crashed somewhere in the vicinity.

Danziger could have kicked himself for agreeing to let the sometimes-too-impulsive pilot go scouting, but the thought of getting rid of Morgan for an entire afternoon had seemed too good to pass up. And maybe he should have questioned that further, too. Alonzo and Morgan hadn't exactly been on the best of terms lately... not since that whole 'flying Terrian' thing. He'd thought that maybe Morgan was finally getting over that, especially since he'd apparently suggested the scouting expedition, but now Danziger found himself wondering just what the two of them had been up to. The fact that they'd lost contact with them was not all that alarming in itself, but coupled with all those other unresolved issues...

Danziger just hoped that his suspicions weren't coming too late to do any good.

Coming around a bend in the canyons, he caught sight of the DuneRail directly ahead. Danziger felt his stomach tighten uneasily at the sight of the vehicle sitting empty and abandoned. He drew the ATV slowly nearer before bringing it to a halt a short distance away. Walman hopped off the back of the ATV, seeming to share his caution. "Alonzo?" Danziger called out, loudly. "Morgan? Are you there?"

No answer.

Climbing out of the ATV, he cautiously approached the DuneRail; Walman circled round, advancing upon it from the other side.

A dark black streak marred the side of the vehicle, and the rear tire had been flattened. Those were the only obvious signs that anything had gone wrong. "Still a bit warm," Danziger noted, pressing his hand to the engine. "They can't have been gone all that long." But he noted that the vehicle's provisions were intact. If Morgan and Alonzo had continued without the DuneRail, they'd done so without taking any supplies. That alarmed him more than the sight of the abandoned vehicle itself.

"Danziger." Walman stood on the opposite side of the vehicle, knelt down to retrieve something from the dusty ground. "The MagPro. It's just lying here. Still activated."

"Has it been fired?"

Walman shook his head, carefully powering down the weapon. "No, just looks like someone dropped it here and left it."

Danziger growled in wordless frustration, glancing helplessly around at the surroundings, and then abruptly stopped as he caught sight of his own dusty footprints. Just his, leading from the ATV to the DuneRail. Clambering through the vehicle, he peered at the ground where Walman was standing. Aside from Walman's footprints, there was a single trail of scuffling footprints winding in a short wandering circuit around the side of the vehicle and back. At one point, the dust had been kicked up as if there had been a struggle, but there was nothing else. No trail leading off into the distance. "Damn it, what the hell is going on?"

"Do you think they ran into some penal colonists after all?" Walman suggested, apprehensively holding his weapon at the ready as he scanned the surrounding walls of stone towering above them.

"Not unless they were really light on their feet," Danziger replied, gesturing. "They didn't leave a trail."

Walman followed his gaze to the dusty footprints, then cast his eyes around, bewildered. "But... they couldn't just have vanished," he protested.

"No," Danziger agreed slowly, thinking of Terrians – winged or otherwise. "We need to get the others out here," he decided, pulling on his gear. "The TransRover has better scanning equipment, and I've got the feeling that we're going to need all the help we can get."

"Maybe, but it's late afternoon and they're already down four people," Walman pointed out, "you, me, Morgan and Alonzo. There's no way they're going to be able to pack up camp and move out here tonight."

"Good point." Danziger mulled over their options, finding them frustratingly sparse. "All right then, let's keep going. We've got the coordinates for Julia's last gear transmission from them – that's as good a place as any to start. With any luck, maybe we'll find them ourselves before it gets dark." The two men jumped back into the ATV. Under his breath, Danziger muttered, "Our luck can't be all bad, can it?"

If Walman heard, he chose not to answer that.

* * *

"I think that's a really stupid idea," Morgan suggested, his voice floating up to Alonzo.

"Know what, Morgan?" he grunted, making sure his handholds were firm and then scrambling a short distance higher, "I'm not really interested in your opinion right now."

"If you fall," Morgan warned persistently, "I'm not going to be able to catch you."

"Oh, that's a surprise," Alonzo muttered to himself. Morgan's grim predictions notwithstanding, Alonzo didn't plan to fall. While steep, the rock face was relatively easy to climb with many niches and outcroppings to hold onto.

"Your bird-friends flew away," Morgan informed him. "They're way up high now. Do you think they're still watching us?"

"Can we... talk later?" Alonzo grumbled between breaths. "Kind of busy right now."

Morgan fell silent. No telling how long that would last.

Alonzo pulled himself over the top edge of the rise, dislodging a shower of loose stone as he clambered up onto relatively flat ground. He heard an annoyed protest from Morgan, but didn't pay any attention. The plateau Alonzo now stood on was rocky and treacherous – just like all of the surrounding area. It was not, he mused, made for creatures without wings. Which made him wonder just once again why the Terrians had insisted that he would be the one to help these creatures. But he had not dreamt to the Terrians for some time now – perhaps he was mistaken... Although he'd tried to tone down his own doubts to keep Morgan from panicking, the images in his mind were anything but clear.

The winged beings' desperation had wailed like a siren song through him – he'd been made painfully aware of that when he'd touched them again. And he now understood that these high cliffs held their nesting grounds, a sacred place, the place where all hatchlings were birthed. But something had come, something had happened, and now their young ones were dying of illness, and many of those that survived and took to the air were struck down by... something.

Something they had no name for, no understanding of. To them, it was simply nameless evil, a blight upon their sacred grounds.

What he didn't understand was what it had to do with him, with any of them. Unless... unless it really was the Roanoke that had come crashing down here, contaminating the land. The thought chilled him. He did not want to be responsible for that as well... But that simply wasn't possible. The ship would have burned up in the atmosphere – it must have...

"You okay up there?" Morgan's voice issued anxiously from below.

Shaking off his thoughts, Alonzo got to his feet, calling back over his shoulder, "I'm fine. It's not as hard a climb as it looks like. And this is the top – it doesn't go any higher."

"So what's up there?"

Alonzo glanced around. Nothing much that he could see so far. "I'll take a look." He picked his way carefully through the rubble, puzzling over the amount of loose rock. The canyons below seemed ancient, filled with sand and giant boulders and great monoliths of stone. Up here, there was a scattering of thousands of stones that were fist-sized and smaller, as if part of the mountain had been pulverized. Some of the stones gave off a dark sparkle in the bright afternoon light. Frowning, he stopped, knelt down to pick one up. The cold stone was glassy smooth in his hands, almost as though it had been fused by a sudden, immense blast of heat.

As if a ship had come down somewhere near here, after all... His stomach churned uneasily.

A shouting voice carried up on the wind. "Hey! Can you hear me or what?"

Alonzo dropped the stone, hurrying back as quickly as he could on the uncertain ground. "What is it?" he called, peering cautiously over the edge. From up here, he could see Morgan staring expectantly upward. And from up here, the ledge Morgan was standing on looked exceptionally small, and the drop beyond it yawned exceptionally large. Alonzo briefly wondered exactly how they were going to get down from here, then pushed that thought out of his mind. "What's wrong?"

"What's going on up there?"

Exasperated, Alonzo replied sharply, "Nothing. There's not much here. I can't see anything other than rock and..." He paused, abruptly catching sight of something off in the other direction. The sunlight glowed dully on gray metal just barely visible from where he stood. "Wait a minute. I think maybe there is something up here."

"Be careful!" Morgan's voice wailed helpfully as Alonzo moved away.

There was a peculiar mixture of feelings in him as he moved toward the distant shape that had caught his eye. Excitement and hope and fear and trepidation, and he couldn't even say which one was twisting his stomach into knots. But what he was seeing really was metal, man-made and scorched and burned and crumpled, and he was half-running, half-sliding over the uneven ground, down into the crater-shaped depression where it must have crashed.

Not the Roanoke advance ship, surely – it was far too small for that – but maybe a fragment. Whatever it was, it was big enough that—

There was movement, a whirring metallic sound, a tiny flicker of red light, and Alonzo skidded to a halt. It was instinct, more than anything else, that saved his life – perhaps a remnant of those images the winged Terrians had given him – without thinking, he flung himself to the ground. A needle-thin, deadly accurate beam of laser-light cut through the air where he had been standing only a moment before.

Half-an-instant too late, he realized it wasn't the wreckage of a ship at all, but the battered and still-functioning form of an oversized deep-space probe robot.

It whirred again, adjusting its aim as it turned again toward him. He rolled, tried to scramble to his feet, and there was no way he was going to be able to get out of its way in time—

Coming almost near enough to touch, three of the winged creatures swooped by overhead, flying past at an incredible speed. The targeting mechanism spun toward them, sending a burst of laser-fire out towards the flying creatures. Perhaps they'd played this game before, for they twisted through the air, somehow managing to elude the barrage, and quickly sailed out of range, and then out of sight.

Alonzo leapt to his feet, diving for the only cover he could see – a large boulder not more than ten steps away, and even so, he barely made it to safety. A fine spray of rock dust filled the air as the laser-beams struck against the stone, but the boulder remained intact. Not a destructive beam then, or just not powerful enough? From what little he'd been able to see, it was obviously a probe robot, and apparently damaged, but at the moment, he didn't much care who it belonged to or what it was doing here. He was more worried about the fact he'd found the only available cover. The rest of the area led bare and barren up the long slope he'd come down. He'd be a dead easy target if he moved out from behind here.

Maybe if the robot lost sight of him, it would eventually go back to whatever it was doing and that would give him a moment or two to get away. Long moments passed with no further sound. He peered cautiously around the edge, barely managing to duck back in time as it fired on him again.

Damn damn damn.

"Identify... Identify... Target sample acquired... Identify..."

Obviously, he'd found the cause of the winged Terrians' problems. Now, how was he going to get out of here without getting shot in the back?

* * *

Lots of people did stupid things all the time, and for stupid reasons, too. Reasons like 'he's been gone a long time' and 'is that the wind making those weird noises up here or something else' and 'it's going to be getting dark soon, so if you're going to do anything, you'd better do it now'.

They were all sort of good reasons, in their own way, he supposed, and the only really alarming thing was that he had somehow convinced himself that it was a good idea to leave the ledge and climb up this rock wall. That if Mr. I-Can-Do-Anything Solace could scale the side of a mountain so easily, well then surely Mr. Used-to-be-a-Bureaucrat-who-made-more-money-than-you Martin could probably do it too.

There was a flaw in that reasoning, somewhere. He wasn't quite sure where, but it was taking him a lot longer to climb up here than it had Alonzo. Maybe it was because Morgan knew that if he fell, he would really fall and die. He half-suspected that Alonzo thought he could just fly away or something. The guy seriously lacked any sense of his own mortality.

Anyway, these weren't good thoughts to have while you were climbing. Without any ropes. Even if it wasn't a really long climb up, it was a really long drop down. So he tried to just concentrate on hanging on and getting to the top. And the top was nice and close now, and he was pretty sure he was going to make it after all.

Heaving himself over the edge with a giddy sigh of relief, Morgan let himself lie there for a minute. Just to catch his breath. And maybe stop some of the trembling in his arms and legs. "I can't believe I just did that," he muttered, still not quite sure whether that was the bravest thing or the dumbest thing he had ever done in his life, and was vaguely disappointed that there was no one here to witness his feat.

He was tired enough that he did actually consider just resting a while longer, but could almost hear Bess' voice scolding: 'You always say you're just going to rest for a moment, and then you sleep for hours.' Of course, she was right. With a wheezy chuckle, Morgan obediently sat up, faintly amazed that even in his daydreams, Bess was always right.

The late-afternoon sun was already dropping downward in the sky, and Alonzo really really had been gone a long time now. Pulling himself to his feet, he looked around in all directions. Despite his dislike of heights, he was struck by the amazing view this peak afforded. The canyons stretched round and round in a confusing jumble below, but he could see stretches of smoother landscape not so far in the distance – the way to New Pacifica, maybe?

But they could figure that out later. Alonzo had said he'd seen something up here... Where? Morgan started circling the outer edges of the peak, figuring that eventually he'd have to run into some hint as to where Alonzo had gone.

He made his way cautiously through the slippery rock, but there didn't seem to be very much up here. It was barren and empty, and the long shadows cast by the setting sun only made it seem that much more desolate. Even those bird-Terrians didn't venture near here, but seemed to cluster down below, or on the faces of the nearby cliffs, or flying so high overhead that they were harmless specks up in the clouds. That was fine with him. When he'd peered over the edges earlier, looking for a possible way down, they had hissed threateningly up at him, their wings fluttering and snapping as they shuffled around to block the few accessible paths Morgan had seen. Alonzo thought they were just 'asking for help.' Hah. To him, it looked like they weren't going to take no for an answer. And Morgan didn't care what Alonzo said, he still didn't like—

Quite suddenly, he stepped over the rise of a hill, and saw both Alonzo and a massive, half-shattered robotic thing down below, which his mind helpfully identified as one of the old-model data scavengers that Interstellar Development used to launch. Alonzo was crouched awkwardly behind a large boulder, and the probe robot was just sitting there, announcing something in a droning monotone, but Morgan couldn't quite catch the words from where he was standing.

Alonzo saw him first, shouted, "Morgan! Get out – get back—!" and made an abortive attempt to wave him away, cringing back against the rock as the probe robot fired on his movements.

"Oh my g—" He should have kept quiet, but stifled his exclamation too late. A portion of the robot lurched about as it registered Morgan's presence, targeting mechanism spinning around towards him. He flung himself backwards, tumbling down the other side of the rocky slope away from the robot. He heard it fire several times.

"Identify," the metallic voice repeated insistently from just the other side the ridge. "Secondary sample... Primary sample... Identify..."

For a moment, Morgan was almost on his feet to run, and then realized that it wasn't coming any closer. If it were, it would have been on top of him already. If it were, Alonzo wouldn't be able to hide from it by sitting behind a rock. It had looked damaged. Maybe it was immobilized. A reassuring thought, since that meant it couldn't get at him if he stayed out of reach... but then how was Alonzo going to get out of there?

This wouldn't be the first stupid thing he'd done today, he thought as he shuffled to the side and crawled upwards towards the crest of the hill, but he couldn't think of anything else.

"Identify..." the voice repeated monotonously. "Multiple samples acquired... Identify..."

"M-Morgan Martin," he said tremulously, still lying safely out of sight. "L-level Four."

A brief silence, which he hadn't expected, and then, "Authorization code..."

Morgan blinked with surprise. That was a good sign. "Ah... um... yes... authorization code... Gamma-twenty-twelve-Y."

"Invalid."

Maybe that code was too new for this thing. When the hell had they been sending out those probe robots? Same time as the Pontel project, or before? He'd had to memorize various master codes for a number of various technologies related to Interstellar Development, and this was one of them. Morgan tried desperately to sift through the layers of information he used to have to deal with daily, and apparently had begun to forget since coming to this planet.

"Uh... authorization code Theta-nine-seventy-three-C...?"

"Code accepted. Martin-Morgan voiceprint added to security database. Waiting."

Waiting. Oh... "Um... Disengage probe protocols," he suggested, peeking carefully over the top of the ridge, and was enormously relieved when it didn't fire on him. "And give status report...?"

The device obediently began rattling off statistics – identification number, launch date, current status. Morgan listened with only half an ear, very cautiously getting to his feet. The robot didn't pause, but continued its information bulletin. Morgan thought he'd melt with relief. He'd done it. He'd actually done it!

He climbed over the ridge and down the slope to get a better look at the thing. Damn, but that was an outdated piece of technology. Big and bulky and slow – but obviously sturdy. From the looks of it, it would have been launched a good twenty or thirty years before Eden Advance ever left station-space. And from the look of the scarred rock all around, he guessed it had blown off the top of the peak when it crashed down here. Not even ten metres away, the ground dropped away in a ragged symmetrical shape that might have been caused by an explosion. It was probably just sheer luck the probe had landed safely up here instead of tumbling endlessly down the mountainside. He was faintly amazed it was still functioning.

"Ugh, what the hell—?" He almost lost his footing as he stepped into a dark slippery liquid that was puddled around the tail end of the robot. Quickly jumping away, Morgan moved around the side of the robot, edging up onto slightly higher, less treacherous ground.

By the time he'd thought to glance around for Alonzo, the other man had already cautiously emerged from his hiding spot, and had a look of utter astonishment on his face. "I don't believe it," he murmured, coming to stand next to Morgan.

"Well, I **am **a Level Four bureaucrat," Morgan reminded him, unable to resist swaggering a little bit. "I had all the codes memorized," he added, tapping his temple knowingly. He hadn't managed to remember his own birthday or wedding anniversary or anything like that, but he'd been able to recite those codes in his sleep. "Up to about twenty-two years ago, anyway. But this clunker was launched way before us, so the old authorization codes are still good."

"What is it?" Alonzo asked.

"Uh... well, mostly just a data scavenger model. SX-1500, it looks like. They were used for deep space exploration. You could program it to take readings, collect physical samples, or whatever you wanted. It would then transmit its findings back, but I don't suppose that's working any more." Morgan paused, then stopped to wonder. The device was functioning better than he would have expected, given its age and the damage it had taken. It gave him a weird feeling to think that it might still be transmitting, and that more than two decades later, some station flunky would be able to hear him and Alonzo standing here having this discussion. "Fortunately for us, it's got a voice interface, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to control it without some kind of data uplink. Most of them had a manual interface, too, if you could get close enough. I wonder where..."

The probe robot continued its report as if both men were listening, informing them that it had crashed on G889, that the propulsion system was damaged, had gone into emergency shutdown and could not safely be restarted without significant repairs. Morgan snorted, doubting even Danziger could repair this thing. It looked like it had lost at least two engines on the way down, and the casings surrounding the remaining engines were riddled with deep cracks.

"Aha!" Morgan crowed excitedly, finding the small keypad and diagnostic screen. "Now we're in business!" He wasn't quite familiar with the cryptic readouts it was displaying – it was probably some kind of technical shorthand; maybe Yale or Danziger would be able to decipher it. While the robot was severely damaged and obviously immobilized, Morgan didn't doubt that it was housing a lot of extremely useful equipment. Like the long-range scanners, the communication systems, the—

"Can we get rid of it?"

Morgan blinked with surprise, shaking his head as if he hadn't heard right. "What would you want to do that for? I've got it under control. We can use it to call the others and get down from here." He brightened considerably at the thought. Pulling the remnants of the gear set from his pocket, he took note of the comm codes it used, then started to input the information. "And if we can get it working properly," he added, "it can help us find New Pacifica—"

"Morgan," Alonzo said in a strained voice, "it's been killing the flying Terrians. These are their nesting grounds. It's been shooting them out of the sky. Killing their young, poisoning the water..." His eyes were haunted, and he threw a dark glare at the probe robot as if it had personally harmed him.

Instinctively, Morgan followed his gaze to the trail of liquid slowly leaking from the remaining engines. That must have been the source of the contamination Julia had found, he realized. This model was certainly outdated enough that it would have been using antriox as engine coolant – the toxic chemical was seeping from the ruined engines, must have been doing so for years and years. There was a dark, oily stain creeping down the rocky slope and over the edge.

"You... You've been remembering things that aren't you again, haven't you?" Morgan asked. He didn't know why it unnerved him so much, it just did. Maybe those bird-creatures really didn't mean any harm by bringing them up here, maybe they did just want help, maybe they even had a right to ask for it – but every time he saw that odd not-quite-Alonzo look in the other man's eyes, it freaked him out.

Alonzo's dark-eyed gaze seemed especially piercing, and he abruptly whirled and grabbed at the robot, tearing open a maintenance panel to reach inside. An electrical current arced briefly through both the man and the robot, and then Alonzo staggered backwards, dropping awkwardly to the ground, his hands trembling and his eyes gone glassy.

"Alonzo—!"

"Ohhhh... that really hurt..."

"Are you insane?" Morgan shrieked. The pilot's limbs were quivering in the aftereffect of the current, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. He was lucky. If the unit had been functioning at full power, Morgan didn't doubt that it would have fried him. "Are you actually **trying** to kill yourself?"

"Why does everyone always ask that?" Alonzo asked, almost petulant for a moment, then he shuddered again. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Security compromised," the data scavenger repeated insistently, "loading defense protocols. Security compromised. Loading—"

Morgan whirled in alarm. "Override. Override!"

"Level five clearance required for defense protocol override."

Morgan's mind went briefly blank. "But I... I don't have level five clearance," he countered wanly, not that that argument was going to do any good. It occurred to him that now might be a good moment to implement his backup plan – running away. But he hesitated, wavering uncertainly as he heard the robotic voice suddenly state, "Override initiated."

Thank god; thank god. Interstellar Development hadn't been in the habit of equipping standard probes with defense protocols – that meant this machine must have been special Council hardware, and he'd heard that their defensive measures were usually lethal. Even if the unit was damaged, Morgan had no desire to test his luck at such close range. "How...?"

"Initiating data uplink," the robot announced. "Completed."

The words had scarcely registered in Morgan's mind, along with the realization that this development couldn't be anything but bad, when a cable suddenly shot out of the side of the machine with lightning quick speed, coiling tightly around his leg and retracting almost as quickly. Yanked off his feet, Morgan fell to the ground, and was dragged up against the data scavenger's metal hull. "Alonzo!" he gasped, clawing uselessly at the graveled stones, "help!"

Still stunned, the other man barely managed to stumble to his feet and move out of the way as another serpentine cable snapped outward to snare him. His movements awkward and unsteady, Alonzo reeled blindly backwards, focused only on getting away.

"Watch out—!" Morgan screamed, too late, and watched in horror as Alonzo yelped with surprise and inadvertently tumbled backwards over the side of the cliff.

Morgan gaped, felt his breath catch in his throat, and for a long moment he simply stared, desperate to disprove what he had just seen with his own eyes. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..." The words were spilling out of his mouth without his even being aware of them. Blinking in stunned disbelief, Morgan tried to ignore the sick feeling that was now settling in his stomach, the pain in his snared leg, and the awful realization that he was now alone up here. "This can't be happening, this simply **cannot **be happening—!"

"Well, well, well," a metallic voice sounded from the machine holding him captive. "If it isn't Morgan Martin."


	4. Chapter 4

That last moment was a steel-sharp moment of fear. Bright clarity. The awareness of having made a fatal error. Not lasting long enough for there to be any regret, just the sudden realization that 'oh, I really shouldn't have done that'.

Half a moment of clumsiness, carelessness.

The falling lasted longer.

It was like the Roanoke – but then, everything reminded him of the Roanoke – that moment when he had stood at the entrance to the escape pod and pulled the release mechanism. He'd never lost a ship, and all the drills had been orderly, choreographed things that did not match the reality of the event. The panicked run through the dying ship. Fear and guilt and rage and a thousand other things he couldn't even put a name to. All of it had clouded his judgment. He'd flung Julia into the last escape pod, waited for her to strap herself in, and then he had pulled the release. He'd had the idea that he would then suddenly leap to an empty seat – _Idiot! There were no empty seats!_ – and strap himself safely in long before they made planetfall.

But the reality was that the moment he pulled that release, the floor dropped from beneath his feet with a violence he had not truly expected. The ship was already being pulled down into the atmosphere, straining against gravity – the tiny escape pod dropped like a stone.

Alonzo didn't remember whether or not he screamed – only that there were screams in the pod. Darkness and terror, and he was thrown violently from his feet. Falling, tumbling helplessly over and over until he couldn't distinguish up from down, and blindly, frantically trying to catch something – anything – to hold onto. At some point, he'd broken his leg, but even to this moment, he couldn't remember exactly when that had happened. The feeling of falling had overwhelmed everything else; at the time, it had loomed far larger in his mind than that solitary burst of white-hot pain that was one bone snapping.

It was like that now – that endless, sickening feeling of falling – only this time he knew he wouldn't survive the impact.

* * *

Danziger grimaced up at the evening sky as he drove slowly back to camp. Aside from the alarming scorch marks running along the frame, the DuneRail appeared to have been only lightly damaged – even so, it was slow going as the spare tire wobbled uncertainly on the damaged bearings. He'd have to see if there was some way to stabilize it, have it ready for morning. Not like he didn't have enough to do already...

Walman buzzed a short distance ahead of him on the ATV, and had already pulled into camp where a small knot of onlookers was waiting for them. By the time Danziger eased the DuneRail to a halt, Walman was already helping Cameron and Mazatl to set up the perimeter alarms. There would be no further searches this evening – the light was fading too quickly. The craggy peaks lining the canyon walls drastically shortened the length of the day: as soon as the sun passed midday and began to drop through the sky, the shadows lengthened and flooded over them, casting the valley into a gloomy twilight. Sunsets did not happen down here – the day just passed abruptly into night.

"You didn't find them?" Magus said in tense surprise, the words hovering somewhere between a question and a statement.

Danziger bit back the short-tempered response that was on the tip of his tongue. "Found the Rail – didn't find them," he commented shortly, stating the obvious. Sparing a quick glance around camp, he asked, "Where's Julia and Bess?"

"Med tent," Magus replied. "Yale's with them."

"I'd better go break the news to them first," he said to Walman. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He really wasn't looking forward to this, he realized, making his way toward the med tent. As soon as Danziger stepped inside, three anxious faces turned toward him in unison. "We didn't find them," he said gruffly, quickly crushing the expectant mixture of hope and fear in Bess' face before it could grow any stronger. Although Julia's expression was more rigidly controlled, he knew she must be feeling the same things. "They must have abandoned the Rail," he continued. "It looks like it was hit with something – a weapon, maybe – something with considerable energy output, anyway."

"So then we are dealing with a Zed, or penal colonists?" Yale asked.

"I don't think so." Danziger hesitated. "There was no sign of anyone else out there. We checked out the area you'd identified as the last confirmed point of contact with them. Though the ATV's scanners are pretty low range, we were able to find this." Extending his arm, he dropped a small handful of black debris into Yale's hand. "There was nothing else there."

"What is it?" Julia asked.

"The ciphering unit from a gear set," Yale murmured, a frown on his face as he inspected them, "and part of the transmitter. This would explain why they haven't been able to contact us."

Julia stepped forward, trying to get a closer look at the fragments, and Yale handed them to her. Bess also leapt to her feet, staring at the small pieces in Julia's hand. "That's all that's left? But—"

"It's just all that we found," Danziger interjected quickly. "Maybe they've still got the rest of it with them. If they do, though, it isn't putting out any signal – we can't pick it up at all." He saw the frown on Julia's face as she examined the broken pieces; alarmed, she turned toward him. He tried to stop her with a tiny shake of his head, but the words were out of her mouth before she caught his movement.

"There are traces of blood on this."

It was a mistake. Bess was uneasy enough as it was – her alarm increased tenfold at those words. Danziger had hoped they could pursue that detail in private, without causing any further tension, but as it was too late now, he simply prompted, "Can you tell us who or what it belongs to?"

Julia blinked, then nodded hurriedly, seeming to regain some of her composure as she moved to retrieve her diaglove. "Of course. Yes. I'm sorry."

"Blood?" Bess exclaimed. "You found blood?"

"Not much," he insisted, aware that the fact was likely of small comfort.

"Was there anything else?" Yale pressed. "Did you find anything unusual, anything at all?"

Danziger shook his head wearily. "We could tell they'd been there, but we didn't find anything else. And Walman and I crawled back and forth over the area about twenty times. As for unusual, I don't know... There's nothing remarkable there – only a lot of stone and rock all around, just like here." Danziger paused. "But a bit further north, where the canyons start to open up – that looks like it's the source of the river. My guess is that's where they were headed."

"You didn't go any further?" Yale prompted.

He hesitated for another brief moment. "Actually, Walman and I were poking around there, but..." His eyes flicked toward Julia then back to Yale. "It didn't seem like a very good idea to keep going. At least, not without some backup. It was already getting dark, and—" He took a deep breath. "—there seemed to be an awful lot of those flying Terrians up there."

Julia flinched, a sick look on her face, and Danziger knew she was thinking the same thing he was.

Apparently, so was Bess. "Oh my god. Oh my god, Morgan was right, he was right about those things, and I let him go out there with Alonzo, and now he's missing—" The colour drained from her face, and she swayed unsteadily on her feet. Yale quickly caught her arm, steadying her.

"We have no reason to believe that anything harmful has happened to either of them," Yale said reassuringly. "For whatever reason Morgan and Alonzo chose to leave the DuneRail, they were both well when Julia last spoke to them, and that was—"

"With Alonzo," Bess interrupted, her voice stricken. "She spoke to Alonzo, not Morgan."

Julia's face seemed to grow several degrees paler. "It's true," she said in response to both Danziger and Yale's questioning glances. "Alonzo said that they hadn't found anything, that they were coming back to the camp. He seemed distracted, so I asked if anything was wrong. He told me that he'd explain when they got back."

Yale's brow furrowed with concern. "When was the last time you had contact with both Morgan and Alonzo?"

"I..." The doctor was very still. "I never spoke to both of them at the same time. They only had the one gear set with them – Alonzo didn't bring his. I just checked in with whoever answered the gear. But the last time I spoke to Morgan was... sometime in the morning."

Oh, damn. Danziger really hadn't wanted to hear that. Things were just going from bad to worse. He took a deep breath, "We still don't know what happened or even if—"

"I'll tell you what happened," Bess said, almost wild-eyed with grief. "Morgan was right, he was telling the truth, and none of us believed him – even **I** didn't believe him – and now Alonzo's gone and... and **killed** him or something."

"Now just hold on," Danziger interjected hotly, and Yale exclaimed, "Bess! Surely you don't believe that!"

"Don't I?" and she speared a cold gaze toward Julia, who was standing motionless in the corner, her gloved arm still hovering over the gear fragments she held in her other hand.

The diaglove chose that moment to complete its scan and beeped unobtrusively, but the sound was unnaturally loud in the hushed tent. Julia lifted her arm to read the results, her expression tightening. "It matches Alonzo's blood type."

That bit of news seemed to startle even Bess. She faltered somewhat, puzzled, as if trying to determine how that piece of information fit. "No. Morgan wouldn't," she began, then stopped. "I mean..."

"At this point," Yale interceded firmly, "there is nothing to be gained from speculation. There are still too many unknowns involved – but I remind all of you that we have no cause to fear the worst. Neither Morgan nor Alonzo has been found; in all likelihood, they are still together. They may need our assistance, but I am certain they will both look after each other. For our part, we'll serve them best by finding as much information as possible to try to locate them, without leaping to conclusions."

"Yale's right," Danziger said. "We'll split into shifts, get as much of the camp packed up overnight as we can, and then we'll head out first thing in the morning." It wasn't much to offer, but it was all he had.

"Morning," Bess gasped in shocked dismay. "We can't just sit here and wait until morning – they're out there now, they may need us **now**—"

Maybe, but he had to balance the likelihood of needing to find them as soon as possible, versus the damage that could be caused by rushing in too quickly, too early – and either way, Danziger didn't have enough information to make an informed decision. Just a best guess. Guessing, when people's lives might be hanging in the balance. Not the way he liked to do things. Not the way he would have done things... except that Devon had left him in charge, and all the difficult decisions she used to have to make were now his. And the cold hard facts were that Morgan and Alonzo were only two members of the group – he couldn't risk the entire group by running off to mount a rescue when night was falling, especially when they still didn't even know where, who, or what they were dealing with.

"There's nothing more we can do tonight," he said resolutely, even though the words caught in his own throat. "I'm not any happier about it than you are, Bess."

Though Yale added his agreement, Bess only stared at Danziger with wide anguished eyes, then abruptly turned and rushed out of the tent. "I'll go make sure that she's all right," Yale murmured, following after her. "And that she doesn't do anything foolish."

Foolish. Like running out into the night, chasing after Morgan? And hadn't Morgan done that for Bess, not so long ago? The thing was, he understood her reaction. In her position, he'd have felt the same way. Hell, in her position – if it were True out there, or... or Devon – he **knew **he would do something foolish. But it was one thing to break the rules – and it was an entirely different thing to be responsible for them.

Danziger tried not to feel the taut sense of helplessness that was constricting his chest.

He turned his gaze over towards Julia, who had remained stoic and silent, and was now poring over her medical equipment with an air of detached concern that didn't fool him at all. "I'm sorry, Julia," he offered quietly.

"You haven't done anything that needs apologizing," she replied, the even tone of her voice belying her concern. "I understand. You made the right decision." Only a tiny hitch in her voice.

"Yeah, maybe," he sighed, "but I still don't like it." Briefly, he reflected that Devon had always been better at this kind of thing than he was; he tried to think of what she would say, what she would do. But the only thing he felt sure of was that she would have managed things better, wouldn't have let it happen this way.

Danziger ducked his head to step out of the tent. "I'd better go tell the others what's happened."

* * *

True Danziger was supposed to be asleep in bed. Instead, she was crouched next to the door of her tent, peering furtively through the flap to watch what was happening. There was a lot of activity outside. Usually, the camp grew very quiet in the evening, but tonight, the murmur of voices went on and on.

A short while ago, she'd heard her father and Yale addressing the group. They'd found the DuneRail, but Alonzo and Morgan were both still missing; tomorrow morning, they'd be moving the camp and breaking into search parties.

And then Yale and her dad had both gone back to the medical tent. The group of people outside had started to disperse, then slowly wandered back together again. Though it was dark enough that True couldn't see their faces, she recognized the voices, though she couldn't remember having heard them speak with such an edge before. The tight cluster of people conversed in low tones, but were not so quiet that True couldn't hear the discussion from where she listened.

"They both disappeared near those flying creatures. That can't be a coincidence. Or the fact that Morgan and Alonzo both told radically different versions of what happened the first time."

"I heard Bess... she thinks that Alonzo might have done something to Morgan. And then he went off with the Terrians. Sounds crazy, I know, but it almost fits..."

"But I heard that it was Morgan's idea to go out there."

"Yeah, and you remember how upset he was that day, after those winged Terrians grabbed them – he practically threatened Solace. Who's to say it wasn't the other way around, that Martin decided there was something wrong with Solace and just offed him?"

"I heard that Alonzo's blood **was** on the gear set..."

"So what? Maybe he's just trying to cover his tracks. Maybe all that 'talking to Terrians' stuff just finally drove him nuts."

"What, you actually think **Morgan **was right all along?"

"Maybe it's neither of them. Maybe there are some penal colonists out there, and they got them."

"Oh come on. If it were penal colonists, they wouldn't have left the weapon or the vehicle behind. That would have been the first thing they took."

"I'm telling you, there weren't any footprints leading away—"

"That doesn't mean anything. The wind could have cleared them—"

"You think it's a coincidence that Uly got sick today? Maybe the Terrians are involved after all."

"The Terrians are **always** involved."

"Which ones? Now we've got two kinds of Terrians running around out there. As if one set of them wasn't bad enough."

"This is crazy. I can't believe we aren't taking some action. The longer we wait—"

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. But anything would be better than sitting here, doing nothing—"

"I agree." Her father's voice rang out in that hard tone of voice that left no doubt that he was angry. "So why's everyone standing around, doing just that? Magus, aren't you supposed to be on watch with Baines? As for the rest of you – if you've got nothing better to do, I've got a DuneRail that needs to be patched up by tomorrow morning. The camp needs to be ready to move out, and we'll need to have search teams organized and equipped. You want to do that in the middle of the night, it's a hell of a lot more useful than everyone just standing around and getting upset."

At the first sound of her father's voice, True had quickly retreated to her cot and lay down, rearranging her blanket around her. She heard the subdued, almost embarrassed murmuring of the people outside as they began to disperse, and a moment or two later, the tent door rattled open and her father stepped inside.

He was trying to be quiet, but she could tell he was still mad. Not quite muttering under his breath, but almost, a tiny whisper of annoyance coming from him. He was so tense now, she knew he wasn't going to be able to get to sleep, and she lifted her head to peek over at him as he sat down on his cot, grabbing angrily at his hair as if he were going to start pulling it out.

He must have caught the movement, for he abruptly lifted his head to look toward her. "True-girl? You still awake?"

"Yes," she said, for there was no use denying it. And then added, truthfully, "I was worried about Uly."

"Yeah," he sighed, getting up and coming over to kneel down beside her, "I know. Julia just told me about that. Don't worry – he should be fine in a day or two."

"Was it... was it something I did? He said I shouldn't have thrown the sand at him..."

"Well, you really shouldn't have, True. It's not nice. And besides, I thought the two of you were getting along now."

"We are," she protested. "Most of the time. When **he **isn't being annoying."

"Uh-huh. And you're completely innocent."

True couldn't think of a plausible answer to that question. "Um..."

"If he's being annoying, True, maybe it's because he's probably missing his mom, don't you think? It's been hard on him. So I need you to try to be a little more understanding," he said firmly. Then seemed to gentle a bit. "But what happened to Uly today wasn't your fault. Julia thinks it's because of his connection with the Terrians, that he's more sensitive to the pollution in the dust and the sand around here. Once we're out of here," and he paused a moment in thick frustration, "once we can leave, he'll be back to normal."

"But we can't go, can we?" she prompted. "Not without Morgan and Alonzo."

"Oh," he said. "So you heard all of that, did you?"

"Well... it was kind of hard not to," she admitted. "You really didn't find out where they went?"

"No, True, we didn't. Not today. But tomorrow we will."

"How do you know?"

He brushed his hand gently across the side of her face. "I just do."

"What do you think happened to them?"

"I don't know, True. I wish I did."

She considered that for a long moment, then ventured to ask, "If you don't find them right away – if they don't come back tomorrow, will Uly stay sick? What if he gets worse? When will we have to go?"

He dropped his head, and she could almost feel him holding back the sigh in his throat. "I don't know the answer to that yet," he said, but from the tone of his voice she knew he'd been thinking about it, maybe hadn't stopped thinking about it. "But don't worry – I won't let anything bad happen to Uly," he reassured her. "Or you. I promised his mother that you and I would look after him."

"Yeah." Again, True felt a pang of guilt at Uly's sickness. But how could somebody really be allergic to the sand? That was like being allergic to the world, and that was just silly. Then again, wasn't that a little bit what the Syndrome disease was like? She hoped Julia was right, that Uly would get better, but still couldn't help worrying about it.

And, from the distracted frown creasing her father's face, True could tell that he hadn't stopped worrying either.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'm sure it will all work out. Like you said, you'll find Alonzo and Morgan tomorrow, and then we can go, and Uly will get better."

He smiled at her. "That's the plan."

"Well, then," she reasoned, "you're probably going to have to get up early tomorrow. You'd better try to get to sleep."

"You're right, True-girl; that's just what I was thinking, too. I've got just a few things to do first," he said, and she knew that he wouldn't sleep at all but would probably work all night. "But that's good advice." He kissed her cheek. "So no more worrying. That goes for both of us. Go to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

Morgan couldn't have heard what he thought he'd heard – it was impossible. He must be dreaming. With a faint whimper, Morgan forced his eyes shut, fervently wishing that it could be all just a dream, a horrendous nightmare, and that at any minute now, Bess would be shaking him awake. At the moment, he was certain he'd have given almost anything to be able to believe that.

But if he'd been able to get things just by wishing for them, he and Bess would have been safe at home on the stations a long, long time ago.

"Wha..." His voice croaked uncertainly; Morgan closed his mouth, tried again. "What did you say? H-how do you know who I am?"

"Martin, Morgan," the expressionless voice responded. "You did state your name. I don't know whether to be impressed or dismayed that you knew the codes to disarm this unit."

Morgan craned his head around, trying to find the speaker, able to see only the bulky mechanical form of the data collector – the rest of the plateau was barren, and even the winged creatures seemed to have quit the darkling sky.

"You... you can't talk," he insisted, staring at the robot. "Not like that."

The data collector unit had not even the slightest semblance of a human form – its unaesthetic exterior housed all the equipment necessary for it to complete its tasks with no effort made to disguise that fact. It looked like nothing so much as a collection of spare parts somehow fastened together. This model appeared to be made up mostly of communication equipment and the engines – now shattered – that had brought it here.

The sole concession to its human creators was the voice interface that allowed it to accept spoken commands. But no data collector would ever have a personality loaded, no matter how minimal – it would be an extravagant waste of programming space for a piece of machinery that was going to be flung permanently out into the far reaches of space. And its vocabulary was limited to those required for giving and receiving instructions.

A staccato burst of sound from the robot, which Morgan eventually realized was the closest approximation of laughter that the unit could make. "Quite obviously," the robot spoke again, "things are not what they seem to be, Mr. Martin. They never are on G889. I'd have thought you'd have learned that lesson by now."

"You... you're transmitting through the machine," Morgan realized, remembering that the robot had announced an uplink being initiated. "Who are you? Where are—" The transmission had to be originating from somewhere on the planet. But who would have access to the communications equipment necessary to make an uplink? There was no one here but Eden Advance, a handful of ragged penal colonists, and... and...

"Reilly," he realized, his mind racing. Julia's supposed contact with the Council. Reilly, who was also Eve. A computer-generated persona that had access to every technological advantage available.

It made sense. If it were Reilly – or Eve, or whatever it was that Bennett's pet computer system was calling itself now – it was likely that it would have been monitoring all planetary transmissions it could pick up, including data collector. And when Morgan had disengaged the probe protocols, he must have inadvertently triggered some sort of alarm, made Reilly aware of their presence.

"Very good," the voice remarked. "Apparently you're not entirely the village idiot I've come to take you for."

Morgan blinked with surprise, absently wondering if the situation could possibly get any more surreal.

"So tell me, Mr. Martin, just what are you doing up there, so far away from the rest of your little caravan? This is not the way to New Pacifica."

"We... we..." Morgan couldn't think of a plausible lie, blurted out, "You're killing the winged Terrians."

"That is not the primary function of this unit, but as most other systems are damaged, it does appear to have fixated on that relatively minor objective," Reilly commented. "Nevertheless, I fail to see how that concerns you. You don't strike me as the type to worry too much about the extermination of an alien breed of birds."

"I don't – I mean, it wasn't me. Alonzo—"

"Ah. The pilot. Of course. Gone native, has he?"

He shouldn't be talking to Reilly. Shouldn't be telling him anything. That damn computer had been spying on them from the start – it knew too much already, and who knew what it would do with even more information. "Um, yeah, he's gone all right," he mumbled anxiously, a sick churning in the pit of his stomach as he glanced at the edge of the cliff where the other man had disappeared. Surely those bird-things would have saved him? But if they had, what had they done with him? Why hadn't he come back to help? Maybe he'd splattered his skull open on the side of the cliff before the winged Terrians reached him, and he was already dead.

Morgan didn't want to think about it, but the grim image was too close to one of his own less-pleasant memories, and he couldn't quite seem to get it out of his mind. He craned his neck around, looking in all directions for signs of rescue. Of course, there were none, and the only thing that caught his attention was the sun dipping steadily down in the west. Daylight was fading at an alarming rate, and he shuddered at the thought of being trapped up here in the darkness. He seized at the cable wrapped around his leg, vainly trying to unwind it enough to pull his leg free. When it became apparent that wasn't going to work, Morgan realized the manual keypad was within reach. Just barely within reach, but still... Maybe there was a manual release? Straining towards it, Morgan surreptitiously prodded a few buttons on the keypad.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Martin. If you hit the wrong combination of codes, you might end up watching your own vivisection."

"Vivi... vivisection?" The mere mention of the word conjured up horrible images that paraded insistently through Morgan's already paranoid thoughts. The clunking and whirring sounds from within the data collector suddenly seemed very ominous indeed. He cringed in upon himself, arms wrapped protectively about his middle.

"These old-model machines do lack finesse," Reilly's voice continued. "However, while it is a comparatively crude way of obtaining information, one cannot argue with results."

"What do you want?" The words came out as a terrified squeak, and not as the bold demand he'd been trying for.

"The same thing as you, Mr. Martin," was the prompt reply. "Order. Stability. Control. Qualities which are severely lacking on this planet. My purpose is to correct that."

"H-how do you think you're going to do that? And—" Morgan's voice quavered. "And what are you going to do to me?"

"At present, you serve no useful purpose here on G889, either for the colonists or for the council. So you tell me, Mr. Martin: what should I do with you?"

This was the point, Morgan suspected, where he was supposed to eagerly offer to be Reilly's new contact. Take up the Council cause in Julia's place. And Reilly would accept, would let Morgan go free, which would all lead to a happy reunion back at the camp, and no one need ever know any different. And if that was all it took to be able to see Bess again, it would be worth it, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it?

Morgan's silence continued a little too long. "What possible reason can you give me," Reilly prodded, and the cable around Morgan's leg began to tighten threateningly, "that will persuade me that I shouldn't just wrap one of these cables round your neck and end your insignificant little life?"

"Because that really hurts!" Morgan squeaked, trying ineffectually to loosen the cable.

"Not a particularly compelling argument."

"Look," he gasped, "I don't know anything. Really, I don't. I never planned to stay on this miserable planet – I'm just here completely by accident, and the others don't trust me anyway. I don't know any of their secrets. I don't know if they even **have** any secrets. I couldn't help you, even if I wanted to—"

"Which you don't," Reilly finished for him. "Isn't that interesting? Do you even realize what's happening, Mr. Martin? Young Ulysses Adair wasn't the only one changed by this planet. It's happening to all of you. The doctor, the pilot... and now, apparently, even you."

"You don't know me," Morgan blurted, aware of the absurdity of arguing with a machine, yet not quite able to restrain himself.

"I accessed a great deal of the Roanoke's files before the ship went down – and you would be surprised at the amount of information that Devon Adair had compiled there. I know you better than you think." There was a subtle menace to that statement. "You're an ambitious, insignificant, self-aggrandizing, petty little bureaucrat with dreams of relevance."

It wasn't the first time Morgan had been told that. Somehow, though, the judgment stung a little more coming from a machine than it did from Danziger.

"But, more to the point, you aren't the first group of colonists who have come here, Mr. Martin. You are like all the others who have come before. This planet changes you. By now, you must see it. And the longer you stay here, the harder it will be for you to leave. The next thing you know, you'll be trading with Grendlers and babbling with Terrians. Is that what you want?"

"No," he agreed readily. "Definitely not." There'd been just a few too many unpleasant incidents for Morgan to be particularly fond of Grendlers. And talking to the Terrians seemed to be injurious to one's health – Alonzo had quite effectively proved that point. But Reilly was Council hardware – and Morgan definitely didn't trust the Council, didn't want anything to do with it.

"Then you need to ask yourself, Mr. Martin, just exactly what you do want."

"Okay, okay. Just let me think. Think." _Don't panic, _he urged himself silently._ Think of a way out... There's always a way out._ "Um..." Old model. What did he know about those things that could possibly be of any use?

Reilly conveniently misinterpreted his mutterings. "What is there to think about? From where I'm sitting, you don't appear to have a lot of options, Mr. Martin."

Something in his words caught Morgan's attention. 'From where I'm sitting...' It was just a figure of speech – one of many that the computer system had adopted in order to pass the Reilly persona off as human. In reality, Reilly/Eve was orbiting above the planet, controlling the data collector through its communication system. But Morgan was physically within reach of at least one piece of hardware. Reilly might be state-of-the-art, but this old clunker wasn't – there was a brief but discernable lag evident in Reilly's replies to him.

_Oh, that's helpful. So I've got a three-second window... to do **what!**_ To disable the stupid thing. Just long enough to get away. _I can't do that. I need someone like Danziger to do that._ No you don't – you just need a big club. _Don't have any._ Or a big rock.

Morgan glanced askance at the glassy pebbles all around. A handful of pretty gravel wasn't going to do any good.

"Well?" Reilly prompted, sounding decidedly impatient for a machine. "Have you decided?"

"Um..." Morgan couldn't think of any other options – and really, what did he have to lose? It wasn't like anyone else was coming to save him here. Lifting his free leg, he slammed the booted heel of his foot squarely into an exposed cluster of equipment that vaguely resembled a communications transmitter. Or a processor. Or something. Reilly's conversation came to an abrupt halt, changed to a shrill 'squarrrk' noise. A red light surged on the diagnostic screen. More than half-panicked, Morgan kicked again and again, certain the machine would now incinerate him if it were given half the chance.

"Security –zzt!– compromised," the dull monotone announced in a broken stutter, as if it had lost the signal and momentarily shifted back to its original settings, and the cable around Morgan's leg briefly loosened as power was diverted. "L-loading – O-o-override—"

Morgan didn't wait, but seized at the cable with both hands and wrenched his leg free, ignoring the pain that caused. He couldn't quite feel his one foot any more, but used all his other available limbs to scramble away as quickly as possible.

"Uplink completed." Reilly had regained control of the robot. A searing burst of laser fire swung round toward Morgan, coming close enough to singe his hair. Morgan yelped, barely evading the attack as he flung himself bodily over the crest of the hill, the loose stone beneath him sending him sliding half-way down the slope on the other side.

The sun was now setting, and the dull-dark gloom of the sky felt like despair to Morgan. Already the night air was bringing a cold wind with it, and the gathering shadows would make the uneven rocky ground even more treacherous; Morgan imagined that if he wandered too far, he might fall off the edge of this cliff in the night.

His stomach twisted at the thought.

But he wasn't going to stay here either, not when he was still so close to that machine. He sat up, carefully, an adrenaline-charged quiver still rattling through him, and the muscles in his leg throbbed fiercely.

The data collector's robotic voice sounded again, floating clearly through the still night air as if Reilly were standing right behind him. "Congratulations, Mr. Martin. I wouldn't have expected such a bold gamble from you. But you should know, I have now changed all the access codes on this unit, and defense protocols are currently set at maximum. You aren't going to be able to get close enough to do any further damage, and I would advise you do not attempt it."

Wild grendlers would not drag him back there. No way, no how. Morgan tried to say so, but was still wheezing from the narrowness of his escape.

"My advice to Dr. Heller is worth repeating," Reilly continued, apparently not done threatening him. "If you are not working with me, you will die running. So start running, Morgan."

Though there was nothing Morgan hated more than being told what to do, under the circumstances, it sounded like good advice, except for the fact that his injured leg probably wasn't up to the task. Impulsively, Morgan seized a handful of stones, throwing them blindly back over the crest of the hill. At least one of them made a satisfying clank as it bounced off metal. "Goodbye and good riddance, you... you...!" He couldn't think of any appropriate word that was bad enough. "I hope you rust!" he shouted in a fit of rage.

He couldn't tell if the ensuing clacking noise was the whir of some maintenance system coming online, or whether it was Reilly laughing at him.

Morgan didn't particularly care. The important thing was that he was away – he'd got away from that awful machine. Now he focused himself on the task of hobbling even further away, trying very hard not to remember that there was really nowhere for him to go.

* * *

"Danziger. Mr. Danziger." It was a small hand on his knee, shaking insistently, and he jolted upright with alarm, almost hitting his head on the undercarriage of the DuneRail before the words registered in his mind.

"Wha—! ...Uly." He wriggled out from underneath the vehicle. "Uly, what is it? What are you doing here?" The boy stood in front of him, his eyes still glazed and heavy with sleep. Danziger realized that the boy was sleepwalking. "Hey, you okay? You shouldn't be up. And you really shouldn't be out here. Come on, let's get you back to bed," he said gently, picking up the boy.

"I have to tell you," Uly mumbled drowsily against his shoulder.

"Tell me what, Uly?" Danziger asked, but Uly only yawned.

Fortunately, Uly had been walking with his blanket clutched around him. That, and the bandages already about his hands would probably protect him from the elements for at least a few moments. Still, best to get him back indoors as quickly as possible.

Other than the perimeter lamps, the only light in the camp came from Julia's tent, which was not entirely a surprise. Despite the late hour, he knew that she would still be hard at work. Danziger glanced in her direction, but Uly's tent was closer.

"We're supposed to be there, too," Uly murmured, his eyes starting to droop shut. "All of us."

"Where? New Pacifica? I haven't forgotten. We'll get there soon, Uly," he soothed, ducking into the tent Uly was sharing with Yale. Obviously he was noisier than Uly had been when he exited the tent, for the tutor immediately wakened. "But right now you need to go back to sleep."

"What happened?" Yale asked, hastily rising from his cot.

"I was working on the DuneRail, and he just walked up and started talking to me," Danziger said quietly, setting Uly back on his bed and pulling the blanket back over him. "Sleepwalking. True used to do it when she was younger, whenever she was anxious about something."

"He should not have wakened," Yale said with concern. "Julia gave him a sedative."

Uly sighed, curling up comfortably beneath his blankets, his eyes closed. Yet he continued to murmur. "They weren't supposed to take them, but they wouldn't wait any more. We were all supposed to go. The Terrians said. Alonzo would have led us there; we were supposed to help."

Danziger stopped, shared a surprised glance with Yale. "What? Uly, what did you say?"

"Now it's all wrong." His voice was very low. "And the wings won't listen, won't wait any more, won't let them go. They are needy, but not to be trusted; they are different from us, willful and relentless, dangerous in need. We cannot vouch for wing and wind..." Uly's murmuring drifted into silence.

The wings...? "Uly, I need to know more. I need you to explain. What did the Terrians say? Uly?" And because the words weren't getting his attention, he reached out and took Uly by the shoulder.

Uly's eyelids flickered, opened, and he stared up at Danziger and Yale. This time, his expression was lucid. "Is... is it time to get up?" he asked, confused. "Why are you looking at me?"

"You had a dream," Yale responded gently. "You were just telling us about it. Don't you remember?" Uly's brow creased, and then he shook his head. "It's very important that you try to remember, Uly. Think hard. Can you remember anything? Anything at all?"

"I think it was... maybe... was it about... kobas?"

"No, Uly. You were dreaming about the Terrians."

"Was I? ...I don't remember that."

A bitter disappointment cut through him, but Danziger tried not to let it show on his face. Forcing a smile, he patted Uly's shoulder. "Never mind. Go back to sleep, Uly. We'll talk about it tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Okay," the boy yawned, still frowning in puzzlement, but then he rolled over onto his side and was asleep in a moment.

"What do you think that meant?" Yale asked speculatively.

"I'm thinking that – as usual – those damn Terrians know a hell of a lot more about what's going on than we do," Danziger growled, "and we don't have any way of asking them. I'm also guessing that Uly's dream was them trying to tell us that something's gone wrong." Of course, he'd pretty much figured that out himself, when Morgan and Alonzo had suddenly vanished.

"Wing and wind," the tutor repeated pensively. "Presumably a reference to the flying Terrians?"

"That'd be my bet," Danziger agreed, even more certain of that now. "Keep an eye on Uly, in case he says something else. I'm going to go talk to Julia."

* * *

Julia peered at the data on her medical scopes with a stunned disbelief. She processed the information again, only to receive the same results. "Damn it," she hissed between clenched teeth. "How could you have missed this!"

"Problems?"

She whirled at the sound of Danziger's voice – in her absorption, she hadn't heard him come in. "I – Danziger, what are you doing here so late? It's the middle of the night."

"I noticed," he replied with a poorly-stifled yawn, then pointed out, "You're still up."

"Is something wrong?"

"Uly woke up, came to tell me something, but he wasn't making sense, seemed half-asleep," he explained. "I thought he was sleepwalking, but then he said something about Alonzo. I think it was the Terrians, trying to communicate with us."

"The Terrians? What did he say?"

"That we should have been with them, that things have gone wrong. Vague comments that mostly sum up what we already know. I don't know why they can't just send a coherent message, just once," he growled, and then seemed to focus his attention back upon her. "That's what I came to tell you, anyway. But it looks like you might have news of your own." He gestured toward her diaglove, her open journals. "Did you figure something out?"

"I think so." She bit her lip, anxiously. "The other day, I took additional medical samples, ran a full diagnostic scan on Alonzo. He was having bad dreams; I was worried. Ever since he and Morgan came back – I really did think Morgan was wrong, but the last while, there's just been something... something unsettled about Alonzo, even if I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. So I ran a few more tests, just to be sure. But then we were travelling, and I didn't have a chance to go over the results thoroughly—"

"And now you've found something," he guessed. "Something not good."

"When I couldn't find anything wrong, I started cross-referencing all my data. Looking for anything. That's when I detected this." She keyed the diagnostic display on her glove, turned it towards Danziger so he could see. "This is a sample of brain activity taken when Alonzo was sleeping." She pointed to a fluctuating line on the display, explaining, "The sleep cycle is readily apparent, simply due to the level of subconscious brain activity. That's normal. Now," she punched a few keys, pulling up another set of data, "here's a sample taken when he's awake." At Danziger's blank expression, Julia pointed out, "During the waking cycle, those subconscious levels remain elevated. That's not right – that shouldn't happen."

"Which means?"

"The only instances in which I've previously seen such consistently elevated levels of subconscious activity have been related to personality overtyping—"

"You mean brainwashing."

"Yes," Julia conceded uneasily. After a moment's hesitation, she shook her head, backtracking quickly, "But it's not really the same. There's more to it than that. I haven't seen anything quite like this before. I suppose it could be possible that it is merely a natural side-effect of Terrian dreaming."

Danziger's expression was skeptical, but he only said, "You said he'd been having bad dreams?"

Her throat went dry, her mind spinning furiously ahead, even as she continued to examine the data on her diaglove. "Yes... but I don't– I didn't believe they were Terrian dreams."

"Why not?"

"Because they were too emotional, too intense. And when he woke, he wouldn't remember them, and wouldn't want to talk about it. It all seemed to indicate his dreams were of a psychological origin – he cried out for the children, his children – I thought it was something from his past, some memory he was repressing, possibly triggered by what had happened to Morgan and him—" She broke off, her jaw tightening. "I shouldn't have made that assumption. I shouldn't have missed this—"

"It's not your fault," Danziger interrupted. "He seemed fine. If anything, Morgan was the one who was acting like he was losing it."

"Yes, but I'm a scientist. I'm not supposed to be swayed by... by the fact that Morgan is irritating—"

"Yeah, well, Morgan does have it down to a science. Anyway, there's no point in wasting time arguing about whose fault it is right now. We need to figure out what's going on, and what we're going to do about it. So tell me whatever you can: What are we up against? How do the Terrians or those winged creatures fit into all of this? What can we expect?"

Julia eyed the data wearily. She didn't have enough information to come up with any certain answers to his questions, hadn't found any way of deciphering what that subliminal indicator might mean. Only that it was there, and that it didn't belong. "I can't answer any of that," she replied, her exasperation flaring more overtly than she'd intended, "there are still too many unknowns. All I've got is this," she waved her hand at the data displayed on the monitors in front of her, "and it's not nearly enough. I feel like I'm constantly running two steps behind the latest crisis—"

And she very much feared that anything she did discover was going to come too late to do any good.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Danziger suggested cautiously. "We've got at least a few hours until morning, and—"

"No. I'll be fine. I didn't mean to snap at you – it's just been... very frustrating." Taking a breath, she reined in her emotions, pulled her thoughts together. "At this point, I think we can safely assume that there is some link between the Terrians and the winged Terrians. I also don't think it was random chance that the winged Terrians first approached Alonzo – he already has a connection to the Terrian dreamplane. Morgan's version of events was likely the accurate one. I'd say that what we're seeing here," she gestured to her data, "and what's happening now, it all started at that point."

Both of them paused and turned at the sound of footsteps running just outside the tent. A moment later, Magus burst through the door. She'd been on perimeter guard with Baines, was still holding her weapon. "Julia, do you know where—? Oh! Danziger. Baines sent me to get you – there was some kind of transmission."

"Transmission?"

"I don't know exactly," she replied, "but he said to get you right away—"

Without further hesitation, Danziger darted out of the tent, following after Magus. Pausing only long enough to save her data, Julia seized a jacket and hurried after them. By the time she arrived, Danziger was already in discussion with the two of them.

"—and all I'm saying is that it was peculiar, okay?" Baines was telling them. "The indicator light flickered – you know, as if someone had just initiated a call, then cancelled it or something. I thought it was Magus, but then when I activated my gear, there was a weird... I don't know what exactly – a technical readout or something. It just blipped there for a second and then the connection cut out."

"Same thing happened to me," Magus chimed in. "So I contacted him to make sure everything was okay."

"At first we thought maybe it was just a glitch in the comm system," Baines continued, "but I kept checking and couldn't find anything wrong. So I started searching other comm channels, and all of a sudden the gear set just starts receiving this gibberish. Not static, but a... a noise."

Julia hadn't realized Yale was there, but he spoke up from behind her, asking, "What kind of noise?"

"Loud. Not voices. It sounded almost like it might have been some kind of encrypted transmission. I can't be sure. I wasn't expecting it, didn't get a chance to really listen to it."

"May I examine your gear set?"

"Go ahead," Baines replied, handing it over to the cyborg as if eager to be rid of it. "But I don't know if it'll do you any good. I think it got fried when I tapped into that transmission."

"Could it have been Morgan or Alonzo?" Bess was now standing there, too, a wistful hope in her voice. Julia glanced around, realized that most of the camp had been wakened. She caught sight of several others peering out of their tents. "Their gear set was damaged – maybe they're trying to contact us."

"Maybe," Baines replied without any real conviction.

"All right," Danziger ordered, "if anything's out there, we don't want it catching us by surprise, so Magus and Baines, you two get back to the perimeter guard. Yale, you'll see if you can get anything out of that gear set?"

Yale nodded. "I will also examine the gear logs – if we are unable to retrieve any information from Baines' gear set, there may still be a record of the original transmission in the communications system."

"Good thinking." Danziger continued, "I'll check out the TransRover, see if the long-range scanners picked up anything. The rest of you – if you can't sleep, then help out where you can, or start packing things up. We're going to have more than enough to do tomorrow, and we'll be moving out at first light."

* * *

Things never turned out the way Morgan Martin imagined they would.

He'd always imagined that he'd die an old man. A rich old man, of course, safe on the stations, with Bess comfortingly close by his side, and the two of them surrounded by every luxury imaginable. And that was assuming that he'd die at all, because sometimes he even dared to imagine that maybe he'd find a way around that as well. In any event, it had always been a distant, not-too-threatening event.

Until he'd come to G889, anyway.

Morosely, Morgan huddled into the feeble warmth of his jacket. This was it. This was the end. There was no way out, no way down, and the clouded night sky was so dark that the weak glow of the moons barely lit the ground in front of him. The wind up here was almost constant, and the night air had a chilling bite. His entire leg ached persistently, but as far as he could tell it wasn't broken, just badly wrenched. At least, that was what he hoped. He'd forced himself to hobble along for as long as he could bear it, wanting to get as far away from Reilly as possible, but when it got too dark to safely see where he was going, he'd just sat down where he was.

"I'm cold," he muttered to no one at all, "and hungry." He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket once again. He'd looked three times already, but still hoped he might have missed something. Earlier, he'd found a hydration capsule, and at least that was something. But he was thinking of the food ration bar that he'd saved several days ago – in case of emergencies, of course – and that he had unwisely eaten yesterday morning because he'd craved a snack.

Alonzo hadn't come back. That unsettled him more than he liked to admit. He'd thought he would have returned by now. Those bird-Terrians wouldn't have just let him fall to his death... would they?

But he hadn't come back. And neither had those damn, troublesome birds.

Morgan wished he'd never laid eyes on them, wished he'd never pointed them out to Alonzo. "I should've just kept my head down and my mouth shut," he muttered reproachfully. Maybe everything would have happened anyway, and maybe it wouldn't have, but he couldn't help wishing that he'd minded his own business, stifled his doubts, and just kept himself and Bess safely out of Alonzo's way. Then he'd be with Bess now.

And Alonzo would probably still be... wherever he now was.

But why was that his problem? he resentfully demanded of his twinging conscience. After all, he wasn't Alonzo's keeper. And none of this was Morgan's fault.

Maybe not. But he abruptly recalled how, almost a month earlier, under the influence of alien spores, and in a hazy, delirium-filled moment of absolute resolve, he and Bess had flung themselves over a precipice. It was a fatal task – the two of them should have died, would have died if Alonzo and Julia hadn't been there to save them, to keep them from killing themselves.

So... what? Now it was his turn to return the favour?

Maybe. But he was too late – Alonzo was already gone.

And it was cold, and Morgan was alone.


	5. Chapter 5

His dreams were jumbled, chaotic. Alien voices, speaking in whispers, speaking so softly that the words were a distant chatter he could not make sense of. He could scarce hear them over the deafening roar of the Roanoke's engines and the endless wail of the alarms. His ship was dying, was falling from the sky. Everyone else had fled, all the lifepods gone, all fallen safely down to the planet's surface. Alonzo was alone here, chasing those whispers, following the voices through the empty corridors.

"Where are you? Come out! We have to leave, before it's too late!" he shouted, frantically trying to coax the unseen speakers out from hiding, wherever they were. The temperature was rising rapidly; already, great clouds of steam had begun to obscure his vision as his ship began to vent the overheated air from its systems. He stumbled through the hallways, dragging a wounded leg behind him. "Where are you?" he called, beseechingly. "What do you want me to do? We have to go..."

But he couldn't leave... could he? The lifepods were gone. And even if he had wings... this was where he belonged. This was his place. His ship. His responsibility. His identity. Without it, what would he be?

Stumbling into an elevator, he punched in the commands to take him to the flight deck. That was his place – it was important for him to be there. The elevator trembled and shook, forcing him to cling to the walls to hold himself upright. The steel-plated skin was feverishly hot beneath his hands. His poor ship – she was dying – and he knew his whole world would end with her...

Lurching to a stop, the elevator doors opened, tossing him out onto the flight deck. Voices swirled behind him. He spun around, but there was no one. The flight deck was empty. He was alone. But the voices droned on and on – a maddening susurration without an answer. "I can't hear you... can't find you!" He could scarcely hear his own voice. Beneath the halo of white-hot fire now spilling over the viewscreen, he could see the planet's surface speeding fatally up toward his ship. "It's too late...!"

/ _It's not too late. /_

The flight deck was abandoned, except for him, all the machinery sparking and flickering into darkness as its circuitry cracked and fried in the intense heat. And still the Roanoke's engines thundered endlessly on, as if they would never cease. "I'm sorry... I can't..." His voice broke. "I don't know what to do..."

The light from the viewscreen was close to blinding him; in a few moments, he knew it would burn him to ashes.

He turned away from the blazing light, and a Terrian was standing next to him, as impassive and immobile as stone, only the piercing glitter of its eyes betraying any life. Alonzo gaped at the Terrian, its appearance there on the Roanoke too discrepant for him to ignore. "What are you doing here?" And behind the Terrian, another figure stood calm and serene, half-hidden in the gusting steam and chaos erupting all around. A sputtering pause as he recognized the slim figure in the background. "...Devon? Is that you...? How—"

"You've forgotten what's important, Alonzo." Her voice was clear as a bell, easily singing through the cacophony as the ship shrieked and tore itself to pieces as it burned through the atmosphere. "I came here, not just for Uly, but for all the children."

He took a step toward her, but the Terrian was in front of him, blocking his path.

"Do what needs to be done," Devon said. "The rest will take care of itself."

The Terrian pressed its staff into his hands. Alonzo had used a Terrian staff once before on the dream plane; now, it felt almost familiar in his grip. Leaning forward, the Terrian placed a heavy palm over his eyes, shutting out the burning glare, and everything grew impossibly dark.

/ _Wake. /_

* * *

Startled into consciousness, Alonzo pulled himself off the ground, his eyes opening to an inky blackness. His mind lurched in numb confusion – _What? Where? _– and his head ached ferociously.

The roaring noise from his dream continued on and on. Disoriented, he turned his head back and forth, trying to see something... anything. A wan edge of moonlight illuminated the uneven ground just in front of him, although the moons themselves were not visible from where he was sitting. As his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, he realized he was just within the mouth of a rocky cavern.

Not like a cave – not a safe, secure burrow that humans might choose to take shelter in – but a nearly vertical flaw in the stone, a narrow wandering fissure that cut through the edge of the mountainside with the jagged unpredictability of lightning. This was the heart, he realized; the beating heart of their home, midway between earth and sky. The natural cavern lifted high above his head like a vaulting antechamber, with precarious ridges and openings into winding tunnels that lifted into other caverns, deeper caverns, hidden from his eyes. There, in those places, the Terrians had once lived. Now emptied of their kind, but there, the young wings were still born. His mind latched onto the thought in confusion – _still born, or stillborn? _

In the darkness that was too intense for his eyes, he sensed, rather than knew, the terrain beneath his feet was equally treacherous. A misstep would send him tumbling down the steep slope of the crevice, where he would break, wingless, upon the rocks below.

He did not belong here. Was not meant to be here. Was not wanted here.

Alonzo shook his head, trying to clear it.

Outside the narrow opening just in front of him, he could see a thin filming sheet of rain. Endless, drifting rain that left the stone beneath him slick with moisture and his clothing drenched through with water. With a shiver, he climbed awkwardly to his feet and took a tentative step forward, almost stepping out into empty air.

Alarmed and reeling backwards, Alonzo clutched at the rock wall next to him, pulse racing as he stared into the yawning chasm little more than a single step away. A faint remembrance of flying twitched through his mind – no, not flying, but falling. That memory rolled sickeningly through him. He had a very brief recollection of something catching an ankle, stopping his fall with a bone-jarring wrench that had snapped the air from his lungs, toppled him into unconsciousness. One of the winged Terrians must have saved him. It had still been daylight, then, though... and now it was full night.

And Morgan... Morgan must still be up there, was alone up there with that thing, that robot—

Gripping the stone wall tightly, he leaned more cautiously out the opening, craning his head upwards. The shadowy jutting peaks of stone lifting around him all looked the same, no matter which way he turned. He had no idea where Morgan was, did not even know where he was. Beneath him was a dark well of emptiness, water raining into his face as he tried to see.

The waterfall, he realized, finally pairing the continual roaring sound with the cold mist filling the air. It was nearby – though he couldn't place its position, he knew he must still be on the same mountain range. That steady, poisonous trickle of coolant spilling from the data collector met up with the waterfall to collect in the lake below. So it had to be located somewhere above. Not far away at all. Not if he'd had wings...

An indistinct rustle that was not the wind came from behind him, the sound tingling upon his skin, and he realized that he was no longer alone... if he ever had been. He turned, easing safely away from the perilous drop just outside the entrance, and some part of him was horribly unsurprised to find the winged Terrians now gathering close behind him.

In the darkness, their wing-shrouded shapes were nebulous shadows, and he could not be certain how many of them were assembled there, clinging to walls and floor and ceiling, but in that thicket of movement, he could feel the dim glimmering of many eyes fixed upon him.

"What do you want?" There was an audible tremor in his voice, but he might as well have been asking questions of the wind for all the good it did him. A muted shuffle moved through the winged beings as he spoke; they listened to the noises he made without any comprehension of what his words meant.

Alonzo shut his eyes tightly. He knew what they wanted. Since he'd begun to remember, he hadn't forgotten for an instant, hadn't been able to stop hearing the voices they'd buried in his mind, the endless pleas for help. He was a promise that the Terrians had made, and he would not be relinquished until all promises were fulfilled.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered, then stopped, having the feeling he'd only just spoken those words a moment ago. And in response, the insistent answer came: _"Do what needs to be done."_

His dream. Alonzo's eyes flicked open as the details of it abruptly returned to his waking mind. Devon. Devon had been in it... and the Terrians. But it had an undercurrent unlike his other Terrian dreams – perhaps due to the influence of these creatures, which he was beginning to realize ran much deeper than he had previously thought: memories, images, emotions that were not his own, that were wholly alien, were bubbling up from his subconscious mind with an alarming intensity, and he could not seem to resist acting upon them. But the end of his dream, at least, had held the familiar weight of a Terrian message. In the dream, the Terrian had given him a staff to use.

On the ledge, hadn't Morgan said something...? _"I suppose I'm supposed to be grateful that your Terrian buddies left us a walking stick."_ Perhaps, then, the Terrians had left him a staff; Alonzo hadn't noticed it, and for some reason, Morgan hadn't pointed it out, but he'd known it was there.

That shouldn't have come as a surprise – Morgan had been afraid, both of him and the Terrians – of course he wouldn't have handed it over to Alonzo... not while his misgivings had been running so deep.

Alonzo needed that staff.

Before he'd even had a chance to consider how to explain that, how to ask for their help, one of the winged creatures dropped from above, alighting almost on top of Alonzo. He took a hasty step backward, but its wings snapped tight around him, gripping him in a choking embrace, and an all-consuming flare of rage and grief boiled through that suffocating touch wherever it came into contact with exposed skin: _/ weak / fail / fragile / not what was promised / you fell, you failed / ugly, stunted, wingless / you have not listened /_

A maelstrom of fire, misery and fury, cycling over and over so forcefully that Alonzo couldn't move, couldn't form a coherent thought in response, couldn't even begin to think of a way to defend himself against the barrage.

_/ you will listen / will hear / will do / no hiding /_

A clawed limb raking down his arm, tearing away the sleeve of his jacket and capturing his bared arm like a shout.

_/ the children die / if we die, you die with us / you die with us /_

Very distantly, he was aware of the other forms moving to intercede, their long angular forms pressing near— _/ STOP /_

That command was laced with a searing censure that even he could almost feel. The winged creature reluctantly let him loose, and with the physical contact broken, Alonzo tumbled down to the ground, his limbs shaking and his breath coming in laboured gasps.

All around him, the winged Terrians hissed, batting and ruffling their wings one against the other, as two manifestly opposing viewpoints began visibly contesting each other. But when the sound and motion eventually subsided, they fell back to regarding him in a unified silent scrutiny.

"I'm sorry," Alonzo gritted through a clenched throat, leaning heavily against the cavern wall as he tried to pull himself back to his feet. To their ears, his words were nothing but unintelligible chatter, but it was all he could bring himself to offer at the moment. Remnants of the winged creature's accusations still crawled discordantly through his mind – _you die with us_ – and he had no desire to attempt to communicate that way again. "I tried... We had no weapons, nothing to use against it. And Morgan—" He stopped, abruptly realizing he didn't even know if Morgan was still alive. What would that robot do to him?

In answer, a graphic memory that was not his flared through Alonzo's mind. Fighting down a wave of nausea, he tried to push his mind away from the images, tried not to think about how the machine processed its 'samples'.

"I need to go back," he insisted, desperate.

There was a whisper of movement beside him, and he turned to see the statuesque gray-winged being that had 'spoken' to him on the cliffside waiting expectantly. When Alonzo made no move, the winged Terrian advanced upon him. He cringed away from the whisper-light touch, but the contact was brief and restrained – not at all like the outpouring of grief and anger from the other creature, but a leisurely, cautious flow of thoughts, as if it feared overpowering him: _/ wish no harm / Terrian-dreamer you / our dreaming / touch-thought / dream to us / take heed /_

Even that light touch, laced as it was with apology and regret, brought a feverish shuddering to his limbs. A detached corner of his mind knew that prolonged contact would not be good for him, that he should communicate as quickly as possible and break contact.

Trying not to hear the distracting pressure of its thoughts crowding in on his own, Alonzo focused his mind on the ledge where he and Morgan had first been taken and the image of a Terrian staff. _I need that._

_/ yes / we can do / _ The black eyes peered into him; the wingtip still hovered uncomfortably near, tracing along the edge of his arm. _/ first / must know / you must know / us our / deep memory-first memory / must remember / you know / then and now / knowing / fight with us / must be with us / must be us /_

"I don't..." He shook his head. "No. I can't make sense of it; I don't understand—"

The long tapering wingtip tightened like a vise around his wrist, and a sudden, concentrated burst of information burned into him with an almost incomprehensible intensity. The contact was mercifully brief; the creature withdrew. Alonzo reeled dizzily and crumpled backwards as his legs gave way beneath him.

* * *

There. Danziger surveyed his handiwork with a critical eye. Though he wouldn't call it 'as good as new' – at least not until he found a spare parts depot where he could get some decent replacement parts – the Dune Rail was now back in good working order. As good as it was going to get, anyway, under the circumstances. It was a tough little vehicle, and less finicky than the Rover. Barring any further close encounters with rocks, trees or Terrians – or whatever it was that had happened this time – Danziger had high hopes that the vehicle would keep running all the way to New Pacifica.

And it had only taken him half the night to repair it, he thought dryly, glancing up at the sky. Maybe another two hours before daybreak. What to do next?

Danziger wondered if any progress had been made in deciphering the unknown transmission they'd picked up earlier in the night – that strange occurrence seemed to be the one concrete lead they had so far. Mazatl had offered to cover Baines' guard duty so that the other man could help Yale with the task, and the two of them had been working at it for several hours now.

Deciding to check in on them, Danziger noted that quite a few people were also up and about. Walman was sorting through and sealing up the equipment boxes, and on the other edge of the camp, Cameron and Denner were efficiently dismantling and packing up one of the unoccupied tents. Julia hadn't stopped working, was still hunched over her diaglove, making notations in her journals.

He paused just outside the tent that served as the communications centre. Baines was in his element, discussing the ins and outs of the comm system, and bouncing ideas off Yale.

Despite his curiosity, Danziger listened with only half an ear, his attention caught by a still figure standing outside. Bess stood alone and motionless next to the TransRover, staring fixedly up at the dark canyon walls that loomed all around the camp.

"Bess? You okay?" he asked, coming to stand next to her.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I might as well be working. Walman and I were loading some of the equipment—" she gestured towards the cargo rack next to her "—but he's gone to see if there's anything else ready to go..." Her voice trailed off, and she turned a tentative gaze toward him. "Danziger... I want to apologize for the way I behaved earlier—"

"Nothing to apologize for, Bess. You're worried about Morgan; I understand that."

"He's... well, I suppose you've already noticed he isn't very good on his own. He needs someone to look after him. To keep him out of trouble. When he's not around, I... I just worry about him."

"Well, Morgan is... he's a pretty resourceful guy," he hedged, trying to be encouraging without spouting any out-and-out lies, "and he's got a... a strong instinct for self-preservation. I'm sure he'll be fine, Bess. He knows how to take care of himself."

Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her hands drawn protectively up into the sleeves of her jacket. "I wouldn't have expected the weather to be so cool here. They must be cold right now."

"They'd have taken shelter for the night." The words were spoken with a certainty he didn't quite feel.

"I keep thinking of the spring," Bess said in a pensive murmur. "When I carried it within me – it was like a flame, just burning with life and energy. I felt so alive, so powerful, so **warm**. Sometimes I think I can still feel a spark of it inside me. Do you ever feel it, Danziger?"

"I... I'm not sure." What he remembered most vividly was the horrendous burning in his lungs and his throat and his stomach as the medicine Julia had given him had gradually killed the alien spores. Definitely not a pleasant memory, and he certainly didn't ponder the incident with the kind of wistfulness that Bess had in her voice. "I don't think so. But maybe that's because Julia pulled most of it out of my system before it got that strong."

"I shared it with Morgan," she said softly, lost in thought. "Not long, just for a little while, but I just hope... I hope that he can still feel it, too. So that, wherever he is now, he doesn't feel lost, or cold, or alone."

He didn't know what to say, but suspected that no matter what the circumstances, Morgan would always feel lost and cold and alone without Bess at his side.

"We'll find them, Bess. I promise."

He was trying to be reassuring, but she shook her head slowly. "You can't make promises like that," she said, her voice strained. "You can't promise something that you have no control over."

"I didn't—" And he bit the words back before they could be spoken: _I didn't promise that they'd be all right; just that I would find them._ He shied away from that thought, wasn't sure if the group could withstand any more losses. "What do you want me to say, Bess?"

"I don't know," she murmured in a subdued voice. "I'm sorry. I just... I just want Morgan back. It's all I can think about, and it's twisting me into something awful." She frowned unhappily. "The way I spoke to Julia earlier... I feel terrible about it."

"I'm sure she knows that."

"No," Bess countered, shaking her head slowly, "I don't know if she does. I think she's lost some of her confidence, her certainty. I think we all have. Ever since Eben died, ever since... since we had to leave Devon behind."

Danziger swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, momentarily at a loss for words. "We'll come back for her, Bess, as soon as we find a cure; we haven't left her behind. Not really. We just... did what we had to, to save Devon's life."

"I know. But knowing that doesn't make it much easier, does it?"

"No," he admitted slowly, "I guess it doesn't." And even though it was often on his mind, it had been something he seldom spoke of. "Every day we travel onward to New Pacifica – and I know it's what she wanted us to do – but every day that we travel, I keep looking over my shoulder, looking behind us. Trying to memorize the way back there. Because New Pacifica is her dream – always was. She should be there with us."

"She will be. Eventually." The hint of a smile pulled at the corner of her lips – Bess seemed to know what he was thinking, to see what he was trying to hide. "It's all right," she said understandingly. "She'd be proud of you, of what you've managed to get done."

He restrained the comment that was on his lips – because what, really, had he managed? What had he done that Devon would not have done better and faster? He'd done what he could, but too often he had the nagging feeling that it just wasn't enough. And it was more than just guilt at leaving Devon behind; her absence gnawed at him more deeply than he'd ever expected it could.

Danziger made an awkward attempt to change the subject, "Well, we definitely have a lot to get done today. Bess, I'd like you to—"

"I'm going to be in one of the search parties." Her smile had evaporated and her eyes were resolute. "That's not even an issue. Just so you know. I'm not staying behind this time. Morgan's my husband, and I'm coming with you."

"No one's trying to keep you out," he replied. "Actually, I thought you'd probably feel that way, and Yale and I already agreed to include you in one of the teams. And, speaking of Yale," he realized, "I wanted to check in on him, see if he'd found anything. You'll be okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Don't worry – I won't go running off on my own. I'm just... impatient for morning. But it'll come. It always does," she said, a mixture of hope and determination. She was stronger than she looked. "And Danziger... thank you."

* * *

"Believe it or not," Baines remarked as soon as Danziger stepped into the tent, "I think we might finally have something."

"As long as 'something' is better than 'nothing'," Danziger retorted. "What did you find?" He fervently hoped it was good news; they were past due for some positive developments.

"Well, we've tracked down two different comm lines going back and forth – the first 'blip' that Magus and I both saw, and then the one I tapped into. First one is nothing special, just a bit of technical info on a thin data stream. Still weird, but it was the next transmission that fried my gearset. Yale was able to retrieve a fragment of it from the gear – it's an old-style encrypted signal, and from the way it was set up, he thought it was being sent to some kind of computer system."

Danziger mulled over that information. "What makes him say that?"

"When he snaps out of his research mode, you can ask him yourself if you want the specifics," Baines replied, nodding over at the cyborg who continued to murmur under his breath, a dazed, glassy-eyed expression on his face. Danziger watched the flickers of information playing above his cybernetic hand, the images sputtering by too rapidly for him to make sense of. "But he did say that the transmission had embedded command codes as well as an audio message. He's in the middle of trying to interpret it, so we're still not sure exactly what the transmission was supposed to do."

"How long will that take?" Danziger asked. At this point, it was all coming down to hours and minutes and seconds. By sunrise or shortly thereafter, they'd be moving out, and, by that point, he hoped to hell they'd know what they were doing and where they were going. "You think he can do it?"

"I don't doubt Yale's abilities, but..." After a moment, Baines shook his head. "I really don't think he's got enough to work with. It was just a fragment."

"Okay, so if he can't make sense of the code, then what's next?"

After a moment's contemplation, Baines said, "I might be able to temporarily amp up the comm systems on the Rover. Maybe enough that we can intercept, or at least tap into, the signal. If there's anything still being sent, that is."

"We can do that? Why haven't we done that before?"

Baines shrugged. "Takes a lot of power and there's no one out there that we wanted to talk to. Not until Roanoke-Colony arrives, anyway."

No one out there... except... "Reilly," Danziger realized with a start. Whom they most definitely had not wanted to talk to.

Baines stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah... yeah, you're probably right. Crap," he muttered, scratching at the back of his neck as if he could feel the embedded biochip acting up already. "I hate that damn computer."

"You and me both," Danziger growled. "Have you been able to pinpoint the signal's origin, find out where the transmission is coming from?"

"Not both of them," Baines replied, seeming mildly chagrined by that. "Although, if the one is Reilly, that's not surprising. That station has got to be in the upper orbit, and even the TransRover's comm systems aren't anywhere near powerful enough to have that kind of range. We'd need the communication dish to pull off a stunt like that. But I **was** able to find the other transmission point." Double-checking the coordinates on his scanner, he stepped outside the tent and pointed up. "There."

"There!" Danziger goggled in dismay at the high, sprawling peak. "You do mean that one, don't you? The biggest, steepest—"

"That's the one."

"Figures." With a resigned sigh, Danziger picked up the jumpers to take a closer look. Hard to see, even with the night filter. He squinted, not at all surprised to catch sight of the winged silhouettes frothing about the summit. "Yale said he thought there's a machine up there?"

"It fits. Something's gotta be receiving the transmissions," Baines said matter-of-factly. "But Yale seemed pretty sure that the coding was meant for some kind of computerized station, and not a personal receiver like a Zed might be carrying."

Well, that was a relief.

Danziger's mind flickered back to a conversation that had almost faded from his mind during the search for the two missing men – Julia warning of contaminants in the water, the possibility of another ship in the area. He'd thought of it since then only in the context of Uly's illness, but now he frowned, abruptly considering other possibilities. "What do you think it is?"

"Hard to say. If the Council were planning to move in here ahead of everyone else, it'd make sense to have some hardware in place. I don't pretend to know how the Council works, but my guess would be some kind of automated communication relay. It would also make sense to have some way to gather information, so maybe a scientific probe. Or – who knows? – maybe it's just something to monitor the penal colonists and keep them in line."

"If it is, it didn't work very well," Danziger muttered, remembering Gaal and the shock collars that the convict had used to enslave the Terrians. And the Terrians had forced the Eden Advance group to intervene, to set them free. Something twisted uneasily in his stomach as he regarded the winged creatures congregating far above. There was an odd symmetry to the situation...

His thoughts began to race as Uly's dreaming words sprang back into his mind: _Alonzo would have led us there; we were supposed to help... the wings won't listen, won't wait any more..._

"That's it. That's where they are," he blurted, turning around to stare intently at the mountaintop Baines had pointed out. "Morgan and Alonzo are up there."

* * *

Overwhelmed by the strange noises clattering inside of him, Alonzo lay on his side, his eyes pressed tightly shut, trying not to hear, not to see, not to think. His mind quivered, struggling to make sense of what it had been given. But some of it was simply too much for him, too different. Acrid tastes and sharp-tinged hues and festering, primal urges that his mind could not make sense of, had to look away from, because otherwise it would eventually drive him mad.

But he knew things now. He knew things he should not have known, could not have known. He knew why the Terrians did not come here, did not come to this land, and he knew they had not since the 'death' had fallen out of the sky to land among them.

That knowledge unfolded in his mind as if it were his own memory: the fallen robot had struck the winged ones out of the sky; it had bled a river of pestilence into the earth. Many of the winged ones had tried time and again to dislodge the intruder – all of them perished. And as the land died, the Terrians sickened at its touch; they departed and did not return.

But the winged ones had to return – this was where the hatching grounds were, where the new ones were born. Deep, ingrained, unchangeable instinct. And every year, their numbers dwindled. The earth wept poison, and the hatchlings were sickly and stunted; many died without ever taking wing. And of the young ones who were strong enough to take flight, there were always some who blundered too near to the alien monster, and it killed them, it shot them from the sky.

The Terrians had talents that the winged ones had given up when they had abandoned the earth in favour of the sky – the Terrians knew things that their winged cousins had forgotten. And so, the winged ones had gone to the Terrians, had begged their assistance. But the Terrians could no longer pass through the poisoned earth; they could not return. Could not or would not. There was bitterness there, a pungent bitterness in that thought.

But the Terrians had not left them with nothing: they had given them a promise. A Terrian-dreamer would come, an alien, who would be able to walk where the Terrians could not. The Terrian-dreamer would bring help to them.

And so now he knew, too, why the winged ones had been waiting for him. When he and Morgan had first peered up at the strange creatures flying so far above in the sky, and Alonzo had reached out on the dream plane – they had felt that distant ripple of dreaming, so like a Terrian voice, and they had recognized him. They had spoken to him in the only way they could. But his mind did not work as theirs did, and his conscious mind had buried their pleas, their demands, and he hadn't understood. The winged ones had watched and waited; and when he moved too slowly for them, when they had grown tired of waiting and begun to fear he would not answer in time or at all, they had simply plucked him from the earth and brought him up here.

It was their right. Time and prophecies and patience came to an end.

And now, now he must do what he was promised to do. Destroy the machine. Kill the nameless thing, the wrongness that infested their home. Give them back their skies. Kill or be killed. Promised. He knew what to do, what he... what they... He/they. They/he. Fly fly flying on wings, his wings, their wings—

No... not right...

"I know who I am," he gritted, his tongue like lead, and the words were slurring together so that, even to his own ears, they sounded vaguely like birdsong. "I know..." he insisted forlornly.

But that was not what they were asking of him, not what they cared about.

* * *

Julia stared intently at the data from her medical journals and her diaglove and tried to maintain her focus, while also attempting to ignore the fact that she couldn't think of anything that she hadn't already researched, tested and examined three times over already. She'd been chasing the same data around and around for hours now, and there was a sense of futility to it now. The data she had was not enough – she was going in circles, and getting nowhere at all.

A small sigh from Uly, and she turned quickly to regard him, but he was still soundly asleep on her cot. Not surprising; the sedative she'd given him was strong enough to keep him from waking at least until morning. But Danziger had said he'd been sleepwalking, talking about Terrians. And when Yale brought Uly here so that Julia could watch over him while he worked on the transmission they'd overheard, Yale had also recounted Uly's dreaming words. Presumably, a message from the Terrians.

Now, after having been unable to glean any further useful information from her medical scans, she had to fight the urge to go over there and shake Uly awake, demanding to know more. Logically, she knew that Uly might not even remember his dream – hadn't Danziger already told her that? And yet, she was frustrated enough that for a few moments it had almost seemed to be the sensible next step in her research.

But she'd scolded herself for that passing thought – after all, she was a doctor, and her first duty was to her patients. Julia knew she was overtired, was fully aware that her irritation came from the stress of yet another night spent sleepless and working and worrying. Nevertheless, that didn't stop the fear from curdling within her, didn't stop her anxious need to know what had happened, to find Alonzo, to get him safely back.

Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, she could no longer pretend she didn't feel the stiffness cramping through her limbs. She got to her feet, pacing a few times around the small tent, then halted briefly by the door, her attention caught by the unexpectedly large group of people by the comm centre, all of them huddled in a tight cluster, intently engaged in conversation. And not in the awkward, questioning manner of last night's discussions, but a tightly focussed exchange.

She hurried over to stand at the back of the group. "What's going on?"

"Those transmissions that came in over the gearsets," Cameron murmured, giving her a cursory glance. "Yale and Baines think it might be Reilly."

For a moment, she froze, a chill shuddering through her. Reilly. Council. Subterfuge, strategy and deception. A guilty reminder of those own ugly pieces of her past.

Somehow, she'd found Reilly's presence here less alarming when she'd believed he was exactly who he appeared to be – the human face of the Council. Right or wrong, someone who could possibly be reasoned with. Someone like her. Mortal, fallible, changeable.

But discovering he wasn't even a real person, that he was just a computer operating beneath the cover of artificial intelligence programs... in some way, that was almost more frightening. Because it was all software and mechanics – if they didn't find a way to shut him down, or alter his programming, then he would continue on, unchanging and ageless, and the thought of Reilly waiting here when the Colony ship arrived was unsettling enough. The thought of him persisting through another two or three generations and still relentlessly trying to assert the will of the Council was more than enough to give her nightmares...

"What?" was the only word she managed to ask.

"We're guessing that the signal I intercepted came from Reilly," Baines replied, "and that it was being sent to some kind of robot in the area nearby."

"Over the last fifty years or so," Yale explained to the group, "Interstellar Development launched an entire array of automated data collection and retrieval units. Their primary purpose was to collect any number of pre-colonization statistics: mining information, atmospheric conditions, habitability ratings. All relatively benign activities."

"Doesn't sound like it's got any information that Reilly wouldn't already know," Danziger commented. "Why's he interested? Are you sure that it's a data collector, and not something else?"

"The first transmission we received was a standard power-up indicator, and machine and model type information was encoded in the message. According to my records, it was also transmitting using the comm protocols available at the time those data collector units were manufactured. I found no reason to believe it is anything other than what it appears to be."

"Maybe he's just using it to spy on us," Baines suggested.

Julia interrupted. "What about the signal that Reilly sent – were you able to decode it?" Because that would probably answer a multitude of questions.

"Regrettably, no." Yale gave a weary shrug. "Our comm systems weren't set up to handle that kind of data transfer, and Baines' gearset processed only a fraction of the message before overloading. The sample I was able to retrieve from it was too small, too fragmented for proper analysis."

"Then how can we be sure it's Reilly?" Walman asked. "Or that it has anything to do with whatever happened to Alonzo and Morgan? I mean, didn't we figure that it was those flying creatures that took them?"

"Okay, so this is what we've got." Danziger ticked off the items on his fingers: "Flying Terrians who seem to want something, and regular Terrians sending vague dream-warnings about something we're supposed to be doing. Also just last night, a lot of comm traffic between what might be Reilly – or might be someone else, but is nobody we know, and therefore probably unfriendly – and a nearby data collector on that mountaintop—" He threw out an arm, pointing. "—where there's also a whole bunch of flying Terrians. And Alonzo and Morgan both gone missing in the middle of this? Call me crazy if you want, but it's all going to tie together," he insisted. "That's where we're going to find them."

"You're basing that on a hunch?"

"No, I'm basing it on a hundred-plus days of living on this planet, and I'm starting to figure out how things work around here. These aren't just random events – there's a pattern to it." Danziger glanced around, trying to persuade. "I'm telling you, it's all connected."

"Danziger's right," Bess agreed. "Morgan and Alonzo will be where those Terrians are."

"I think that the winged Terrians are definitely involved," Julia also agreed, thinking over everything she'd just heard. "But if this is **Reilly **we're dealing with," she said, unable to quell the little shudder of apprehension within her as she stressed the point, "then we really have to question the purpose of those comm transmissions. What if it's just... a coincidence, or a diversion? Why would we just suddenly happen to pick up what should be a secure transmission? What if he's actually trying to draw us away from them?"

That thought was enough to give everyone pause.

Danziger scowled. "Coincidence? – no. Not on this planet. Not based on anything that's happened to us over the last few months. But a diversion, especially if Reilly's involved? Yeah... it's not impossible." Despite his words, a moment later Danziger shook his head again, still unconvinced.

"I don't know. Maybe Julia's right. The first signal did come through on our gear channel," Baines admitted doubtfully. "No reason it should have – unless Reilly wanted us to hear it."

"If you're not sure, then get back on it and figure it out for sure," Danziger snapped. "We've only got another forty minutes – if that – before we're ready to move out. Like it or not, at the moment the signal coming from that mountain isn't just our best lead – it's our **only** lead. And unless you find something better, that's exactly where we're going be heading. So get at it."

Baines glowered at Danziger's departing back. "Didn't say I was thrilled about the idea," he muttered, as everyone else began to disperse.

"I will look into it," Yale volunteered. "You'll have to start getting the comm centre packed up and loaded onto the TransRover. I'll be able to review the file while you're taking the systems down."

Baines nodded, murmuring agreement.

Julia turned, and hastily followed after Danziger. "Danziger – wait. I'm sorry, but I had to ask. I couldn't just—"

"I'm not mad, Julia," he said gruffly, denying the pent-up tension that she could see in his stance. "Not mad at you, anyway – you brought up a valid point. It's just... I can't help thinking that we're over-thinking it. You said it yourself, it all started when we ran into those flying Terrians. And Uly's message also seemed to be about them. Reilly's just... well, I don't know how he fits in exactly." He shrugged. "Bottom line is that I'm sick and tired of waiting around trying to figure things out; I'm ready to go out there and do some damage, and if Reilly's on the receiving end, then so much the better."

"I wish it were that easy."

"You making any progress with your medical files?"

"No," she admitted glumly, a little confused by the abrupt change of subject. "I think I've found out everything I'm going to with that data. I need more information."

"In that case... Uly still sleeping?" When she nodded, he said, "I'm going to move him to the TransRover. I'll get True up and have her go sit with him, make sure he doesn't get out if he wakes up before we leave. We need to take down the med tent, get everything packed up and ready to go."

Until he'd pointed it out, Julia hadn't stopped to realize that she'd spent the entire night immersed in her research, without even beginning to pack any of her medical equipment. So much to do, and now there was so little time left...

"Don't worry," he said in response to her anxious look, clapping a hand to her shoulder. "We'll get it done. Always works out in the end, doesn't it?"

Although she knew it wasn't what he'd meant, Julia abruptly thought of O'Neill, of Eben, of Devon, and didn't say anything at all.

* * *

Uly was a bit surprised to wake up in the TransRover – it wasn't where he recalled going to sleep, although that memory was a little fuzzy too. The last thing he clearly recalled was being in the medtent with Yale and Julia, and all of his skin had been stinging and burning.

"Hey." True was sitting next to him by the passenger door, looking at him with a tentative smile.

"Hey," Uly replied, still a little mystified at why the two of them were sitting here. It wasn't even morning yet – the sky was still coloured in the gloomy shade of just before sunrise. "Um... what are we doing in here?"

"Just waiting to go," she replied, as if it were patently obvious. "The camp is already packed up, and we're leaving soon. And Julia says you have to stay in here," True announced, "and I'm supposed to watch you."

"I don't need **you** to watch me!" he huffed. "I can look after myself. And," he added scornfully, "I didn't want to go outside anyway."

"I'm just saying," True replied, more than a little smug. But, after a moment's pause, she asked more sincerely, "Are you feeling better today?"

"Mostly, I guess." He loosened the bandage on his hand and unwound it enough to reveal a bit of reddened skin. No blisters. "Look!" He waved his hand at her.

She grimaced. "Yuck. That looks like it still hurts."

"Not so much now. Just itches a little."

"Well, put the bandage back on. It's gross."

Uly briefly considered reaching out and touching her with his 'gross' hands, but thought better of it. True could get very shrill when she was mad, and since he knew he really wasn't supposed to leave the vehicle, that left him with no escape. Regretfully, he readjusted the bandages.

"I'm sorry I threw the sand at you yesterday." True's voice was very quiet.

Uly looked over at her, surprised. "That's okay," he decided. "You didn't know."

"I've never been allergic to anything before," True commented.

"You're lucky." Uly had spent his whole life allergic to everything, until he'd come here. Until now, G889 had been a haven for him; he felt vaguely offended that this corner of the planet was turning on him, and he understood why the Terrians had left this place. "But at least it's just this area. Once we get out of the canyons, I won't have to worry any more."

"Did the Terrians tell you that?"

Did they? He shrugged a little. It was just something he knew. "They don't talk the way you think they do," he replied.

"What, like 'orooo-woo-wooo'?" she said, scrunching up her face as she did a dreadful Terrian impression.

"They don't 'orooo-woo-wooo'!" he yelped, outraged on their behalf.

"Well, that's what they sound like," she countered defensively.

"That's cause you don't know how to listen properly!"

"Oh yeah?" She sat back and crossed her arms, regarding him seriously. "Then how do I?"

He paused. It wasn't something he often had to explain. Of course, his mother had asked similar questions, as had Yale and the doctor, many times over, but any words he ever gave them didn't seem to answer their questions. "It isn't just their voices. It's... it's like... lots of little pieces, except all together. Like you also have to listen to everything else around them."

"**That **doesn't make **any **sense at all," True said decisively.

He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, 'What do **you** know? You're the one who asked – you don't know a-n-y-thing.' But that would just start yet another argument between them, and Yale had asked him to try to be nicer. And most of the time, True was okay. Annoying, but still okay.

"Where are we going?" Uly asked curiously, leaning forward to watch the adults scurrying around outside. The tents had all been dismantled, and only a few stray poles and boxes of equipments remained, waiting to be loaded onto the vehicles.

"Over there," True informed him, pointing at some indistinct place outside the window. "Over by that big mountain. That's where Morgan and Alonzo have gone, and we're going to go get them."

Uly turned to look at the mountain – right away he knew which one she was talking about. Taking in the sight of the distinctive uneven peak, Uly suppressed a shiver as he quickly looked away and crossed his fingers. He didn't know the place, had never seen it before, but could almost feel it casting a long dark shadow over the land, and somehow he knew it was bad luck.

True was glancing sideways at him, a peculiar expression on her face. "Do you think we'll find them?" she asked cautiously, as if she suspected he might have an answer to that question. "Will they be okay?"

"I don't know," he replied. It was confusing. Sometimes he felt things, and sometimes he could only guess, but this time he didn't really know... Maybe the Terrians didn't know either. "But they'll die if they stay there," he said, and that was the one thing he was certain of. "Everything does."

* * *

Usually when they departed a campsite, it wasn't quite at the level of the organized chaos it was now, but they were almost ready to go.

"Danziger!" His holographic interface abruptly disappeared, and Yale stood up, glancing in all directions, then hurrying forward when he caught sight of him. A few other people stopped what they were doing, trailed after Yale, anxious to hear whatever it was he had to say.

"What is it?" Danziger asked. "You found something?"

"Yes. The signal Baines and Magus received – remember, I told you it was a power-up indicator, an automatic function after the system resets itself; that means it would transmit **only **to the channels listed in its database. But **we **received a fragment of it before Reilly's message overrode the signal."

Danziger didn't understand why Yale seemed quite so excited by that tiny detail. "And so...?"

"I didn't notice it before – I was more intent on studying the contents of the signal – but this time I realized: the signal came through on the same channel code as the gearset that Alonzo and Morgan were using. They must have manually input that into the system," he explained, "perhaps they were attempting to use it to contact us – that's why, when the system reset itself, the signal initially came through on our gearsets."

An almost electric quiver of excitement rippled through the people crowded around. "So... Danziger's right?" Baines asked in surprise. "They are up there with that data unit?"

"Don't sound so shocked," Danziger retorted good-naturedly. "I've been right before, you know."

"According to all the available evidence," Yale replied, "yes, I believe that is where Morgan and Alonzo are – or at least, where they were."

One piece of the puzzle... Danziger struggled to put the others together. "Any idea why it's got those flying Terrians so riled up?"

"Possibly the robot's mere presence there is disrupting their habitat. In our previous dealings with the Terrians, we've found them to be quite sensitive to changes in their environment – there is no reason to believe that this species of Terrians is not equally sensitive."

"The Council was intent upon controlling the planet," Julia offered. "If Reilly is acting on their behalf, we can probably assume that he's using the equipment to subdue or eliminate any indigenous or hostile life forms."

It made sense. And if Alonzo or Morgan had been interfering with that, no doubt they'd have been classified as 'hostile', and Reilly would be only too happy to try to eliminate the two of them. As well as anyone else who came looking for them. "Can we disrupt it somehow?" Danziger asked. "Knock it offline?"

"No way," Baines replied. "Not from a distance. Best we could manage is that, once we're close enough to that mountain, we might be able to send out enough static to jam any incoming or outgoing transmissions. But I've been monitoring all the channels I can find," he added, "and I can't find any comm traffic at all. So if it is Reilly, he's not talking at all now."

"Doesn't mean he won't, especially when we start walking into his territory. If he's found a way to use that robot as an attack unit, then I want a way to shut it down fast."

"A direct hit from a MagPro is probably a better method," Baines insisted, "but if that's not an option, then a static field should buy you some time, lock him out for a few minutes. We can't maintain it for much longer than that without depleting the TransRover's power supplies. At most, you'd get five – maybe ten minutes – before we'd have to shut down and recharge."

"Better than nothing," Danziger noted. "We'll wait and see if we need it."

With a quick glance to confirm that the entire group was now assembled, Danziger called out, "Okay, everyone, we're moving out. Just in case anyone's not clear on the plan: Yale's already mapped out the fastest route, so we head there, and then break out into search parties. Walman and Cameron will be taking the ATV to scout the eastern edge. Julia and Yale are taking the DuneRail to the west, and Bess and I will be covering the middle on foot. The TransRover is going to be hanging back at a safe distance, where Baines will be working the comm and scanner systems. Baines, I want you monitoring for any further transmissions – if something comes in, let us know right away. The rest of you are on guard duty around the TransRover – keep your eyes open, and if the situation changes – if you've got any doubts at all, then back off."

"What about those flying Terrians?" Walman asked. "What do we do if they come near?"

Danziger hesitated, glancing briefly at Julia. "No shooting at all, unless you absolutely have to. I mean it," he added sternly, seeing the dubious expressions. "I don't really care for them either, but they haven't actually been openly hostile, and I get the feeling they're not the real bad guys here. And they probably outnumber us a hundred to one," he added, "so don't go picking any fights."

Walman didn't look too happy with that advice, but he nodded.

"And keep your gearsets handy, but use them sparingly – there's no telling who's listening in."

Danziger paused. Should probably think of something inspiring to say... Oh hell, who had the time for that? "Let's get going."

* * *

The air felt familiar to him now. The high cold chill of the wind in his face, the wind streaming through his hair, through half-outstretched arms. This was flying. Not the vain skill he'd once possessed – reading instrument scopes and adjusting engine output and plotting orbital trajectories – that hadn't been flight at all... it had just been something he'd done, something he was good at, back when he was—

_Human?_

The word leapt unexpectedly into his mind, jarred some of the complacency from him. But he did not have time to pursue the thought as Gray-wings descended precipitously, skimming suddenly close to rock walls, hovering beneath the perimeter of the summit. Alonzo seized instinctively at the clawed feet wrapped about his shoulders, his skin prickling as his fingers made contact. _/ fire / flame / falling / be wary /_ Gray-wings was fearful – too many had been shot from the sky in the past – those memories still lived vividly in their minds. And now in his.

He shuddered and let go his grip, instinctively recoiling from the memories that were at once unfamiliar and too familiar at the same time. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his mind away from those thoughts, feeling the alien images stirring uneasily within him as he did so, but they subsided. They did not disappear. He could feel them all the time now; they were spots of cold in his mind – each one buried too deep to remove, and all of his own memories and knowledges ached painfully as they were pressed aside to make room for the new. Each memory was like a spike driven into his mind, one after the other, like a row of icicles, or of teeth... And that was almost what it felt like. Like his mind was being slowly eaten away, piece by piece.

But the Terrians wouldn't let that happen to him; they couldn't... And yet there was a terrifying silence in that corner of his skull where he had once heard whispers and dreams. Perhaps the Terrians had abandoned him. Perhaps he'd already lost that part of himself that was able to dream to them, severed it somehow when the winged ones had stepped into his mind.

But he'd had a dream – only yesterday – was it only yesterday? His memory gave a disorienting lurch. Time was yet another thing that had started to slip away from him; he was beginning to lose the sense of it. But he was sure he'd had a Terrian dream. They'd spoken to him, or had tried to, through the steadily escalating static and turmoil of his mind, and their presence had been sturdy, calming. They had wanted him to use the staff they'd given him. Fulfill the promises and be free.

Gray-wings – that wasn't its true name. The winged Terrian did have a name, but it was an amalgam of exotic images and impressions that didn't have any linguistic equivalents, and Alonzo found it disconcerting to contemplate it too closely, so he'd chosen to mentally identify this Terrian by its appearance.

Gray-wings dropped down, allowing Alonzo to alight upon the same ledge where he and Morgan had found themselves yesterday... or whenever that memory had come from.

As he stepped out from beneath the elder being's grip, a hundred black-eyed gazes turned toward him, their countenances unreadable. But they rustled against each other like leaves, a quietly rippling current of movement over the rock face, one against the other, and then against him too as he tried to walk past – they stirred, tracing their wingtips against his bare arm, his neck, his face; the whisper of their voices upon his skin, a palpitating tension in his mind.

_/ time / now / do / you must do / you must free us /_

He could see himself – alien and strange – reflected in their own understanding. Peculiar creature. Unlike. Atypical. Like the Terrians, wingless and bound to earth; but like the winged ones, in love with the sky...

_/ ours /_

Alonzo flinched away from their touch, began to falter – too much, it was too much – and Gray-wings interceded once more. The others drew back, letting him pass by as he searched for what he'd dreamt of.

Catching sight of the staff wedged against the side of the cliff wall, Alonzo rushed forward and seized upon it. The touch of it was cold and soothing, but there was a vague disappointment in him as he tried to call to the Terrians and realized he couldn't quite remember how to do so.

He pressed the staff against the earth, could feel the resonating shock of connection. There was power there, an energy that could be used, that could be made a weapon, even though the tainted land felt acrid and stinging through that bond of mind-body-earth. He quickly loosened his grip as his palms began to burn, and lifted the staff away from the pained earth. No wonder the Terrians had left this place; no wonder they could not bear it...

A shadow of movement, and a wingtip pressed once more against his skin, their thoughts overwhelming his: _/ time / you must go / you must do / you are promised /_

Obviously, there would be no respite for him until he had satisfied their demands.

* * *

Morgan woke from a dream – an awful dream of him twisting and turning in icy discomfort in his cold-sleep chamber on the Roanoke, all through a twenty-two-year restless, cold, fitful sleep that he wasn't able to awaken from – only to open his eyes to the grayish pre-dawn sky on G889. The sun had not yet risen, and all his surroundings were sheeted with shadows.

Well, that was depressing.

He felt almost more tired now than he had the night before, and that was saying something. Why couldn't he have had a nice emotionally fortifying dream, recalling something worthwhile? Like his first vacation with Bess – they'd visited Jupiter Station's prime recreation facilities: bright lights, warm water, soft beds and plenty of food. Oh, for a VR unit right now...

Wincing, he tried to straighten his leg – it was stiff and uncooperative, and the night spent out in the cold hadn't done it any good, but at least the dull ache had settled somewhat. Of course, that likely meant nerve damage or something, he thought morosely, and there was probably no way he could walk on it now.

Slowly sitting up and wondering what he was going to do next, he almost lost his balance as he suddenly whipped his head around, convinced that he'd seen some tiny movement on the periphery of his vision.

"H-hello...?"

Nothing there. No sinister bird-wings ripping through the leaden sky, no suddenly-mobile Reilly lumbering over the hill in robotic limbs. Nothing and no one. He was still alone up here.

And then glimpsed it again as he started to turn away. What was that? He could have sworn he'd just seen something moving out there, way far away in the valleys below. Something small and glittering, winking at the corner of his eyes...

This time he stayed still, hardly daring to breathe as he peered intently out into the dark landscape.

He saw it again, and only then did he realize: Lights. They were lights! Tiny little clusters of lights gleaming far below. One, two, three sets of them. The only illumination for as far as the eye could see. Steady, blue-white gleams that darted in and out of sight as the vehicles wound their way through the valleys.

It had to be the rest of the group, come looking for them. Bess would be down there.

Sudden joy burst within him, and Morgan whooped in excitement, jumping to his feet, and apparently his leg wasn't as injured as he'd thought a moment ago. He was waving and shouting and hollering as loud as his lungs were able – "Hello! Hey! I'm up here!" – but they were still far away, and he was too high above them; his words didn't even echo as he yelled, but were promptly carried away and swallowed up by the sky.

It didn't matter, though – even that couldn't blunt the elation coursing through him.

Because it was the rest of the group – they were coming to find him – and Bess was down there somewhere.

Until only a few moments ago, he'd been more and more resigned to the fact that he was going to die out here. But things never turned out the way Morgan Martin expected them to, and for once, he was glad of that.


	6. Chapter 6

One foot in front of the other. Keep balance. Keep going. Morgan trudged diligently towards the early morning sun. He had little hope that he was miraculously going to find a safe footpath down from the mountaintop, but he didn't have any other ideas, and so he'd begun to stumble cautiously over the uncertain ground, making sure only that he was headed away from Reilly.

He'd watched the approaching vehicles until they'd slipped beneath his line of sight as they drew nearer in the valleys below. It had crossed his mind, then, that he should probably try to find some way to signal them. Go to the edge and wave his jacket in the air or something like that. Because if he didn't, what if... what if the vehicles drove by, thinking he was one mountain range over? Or, even worse, what if they weren't even looking for him, but had given both of them up as dead and were now on the way to New Pacifica?

Okay, that was ridiculous, he realized. Surely they'd search for more than a day before just driving off. ...Wouldn't they? Of course they would. He was just being paranoid because he was trapped up here, all alone, and he didn't like it at all.

But then, what if... what if they couldn't get him down from here? What if it was just too high? What if...

Morgan paused, abruptly catching sight of a strange shape a short distance ahead of him, and he squinted into the early morning light, not quite sure of what he was seeing. Something dark and not-rock-like. He shaded his eyes against the sun. Two figures kneeling down on the rock-strewn ground, vis-à-vis, seemingly contemplating each other in silent meditation.

His breath caught in his throat, and, half-disbelieving his eyes, he shouted, "Alonzo!"

The pilot did not react, but the winged Terrian drew itself upright, regarding Morgan for a long moment. Then, in a fluid movement, it spun into the air, diving over the edge of the cliff and off into the morning sky.

Waving his arms – partly out of excitement and partly to keep his balance – Morgan was half-tripping over the rocks as he shambled toward him. "You're alive!" he exclaimed, then lost a little of his exuberance as he got a closer look at the pilot. Alonzo looked more than a little ragged around the edges. He'd lost his jacket and one sleeve of his shirt somewhere, and though the cool morning air didn't seem to be bothering him, he had a distinctly fevered look. "Are... are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he replied, flatly.

"What did those things do to you?"

Alonzo spared no more than a brief dismissive glance at the departing Terrian as he rose to his feet. "Morgan," he said, as if only recognizing him at that moment. "What are you doing here?"

"Um... you mean, how did I get away? Mostly luck, I think," he admitted. "It was Reilly that took control of the unit – that's why it attacked us. Either I took Reilly by surprise when I broke free, or the processor on that old clunker doesn't respond quickly enough. I didn't stick around to find out which one it was. But what about you? – I hoped those bird-things might save you... but then you didn't come back. Where – where have you been?"

"I was in the caverns... they told me..." There was something disjointed in his speech, a faltering lack of composure that Morgan was not used to hearing from him. "They showed me... what I needed to remember."

Alonzo didn't say anything more, and it wasn't a line of conversation Morgan particularly wanted to pursue, so he attempted to change the subject. "There has to be some way down from here. I saw some lights this morning; it's the rest of the group. They're looking for us. So if we can find some way to signal to them..." No reaction from Alonzo. It didn't matter what words Morgan used; Alonzo had the blank look of someone who was either not listening or did not understand what was being said. And yet there was something uncomfortably familiar about his eyes, the expression there...

With a shudder, Morgan realized that it was the same not-quite-there expression that Julia had once worn, when she'd been experiencing side effects from the Terrian DNA she'd been experimenting on. And Morgan had been the unlucky one she lashed out at when she finally went round the bend.

The similarities were ominous enough that Morgan felt justified in taking a discreet step backwards.

"I, uh, I see you found your... Terrian thing," Morgan said, nodding at the staff that Alonzo held loosely in one hand. Alonzo glanced down, his grip tightening reflexively about the staff, then looked back at Morgan. "Great. Maybe you can call the Terrians with that? Can they help get us out of here?"

Alonzo stared at him with a deeply puzzled expression. "What are you talking about?"

"Leaving," Morgan said, speaking very slowly. "Getting off this stupid chunk of rock. Going back to the camp. They're out there, looking for us. Bess will be waiting. And Julia, too," he prompted, trying to elicit some reaction. "**That's** where we belong. I mean, we don't even know the first thing about these creatures, what they want, what happened—"

"I know."

"What do you mean, 'you know'?"

"I just know," he replied stolidly, as if everyone should just accept his word every time he magically absorbed some new piece of knowledge. "I remember."

Morgan fought the urge to roll his eyes. Alonzo's memory was the last thing he'd be banking on – obviously he'd forgotten just how erratic his recollections were getting. "Yeah? Then tell me," he pressed. "What happened?"

Alonzo tilted his head, spearing a piercing gaze towards Morgan, and for a moment, Morgan thought he was going to quarrel with him. But then the other man's gaze turned abruptly inward, and he fell still. He was quiet and motionless for so long that Morgan had to resist giving him a shake, to see if he was still awake.

"When it fell," Alonzo said, his words halting and oddly hollow, "when they first saw it falling out of the sky, it was trailing fire, burning. Came down too fast, the repulsion jets were firing for all they were worth, but it was too late, too fast. The trajectory was wrong, couldn't compensate in time... One of the engines fractured under the stress – it exploded. Fire rained from the sky," he shuddered, an awed horror in his voice. "Fire and acid. So many died. Our wings burned, shrivelled."

A peculiar mixture of grief and agony twisted across Alonzo's features, and his arms were quivering, his fingertips fluttering, as if he could somehow feel them burning. The staff slipped from his grasp, and he started to pace back and forth as if stricken.

"It crashed against the peak. Shattered. So loud, the earth trembled. The engine casings ruptured on impact, the coolant spilled out... poison, it was poison. We burned, we died. When it touched the river, it killed it; everything there living died. The water boiled, the land sickened. Death everywhere. So quickly and so many, so many dead and gone— killed, and dying, all of it— Must be stopped— Must, must, must—"

Alonzo's narrative began to deteriorate; he tumbled to his knees. The words were spilling from him in a breathless rush, and he seemed unaware of how he was shifting from his own thoughts to those that couldn't possibly have been his.

"Alonzo. Alonzo!"

For a moment, Morgan's words didn't seem to have any affect. But then, with an obvious effort, Alonzo managed to restrain his rambling speech and peered up at Morgan with a strangely unfocused gaze.

"Look." Morgan grabbed Alonzo by the wrist, yanked his hand upward to wave it in front of his face. "See? You don't have wings. Without a ship, you can't fly. You're not one of those things. You've got to stop thinking like that, or... or you'll go crazy or something."

He had no idea whether he was getting through to him or not. Alonzo was obviously in the midst of some serious reality issues, and Morgan was more accustomed to being the panicky one, the weak link – he really didn't know what to do in this situation.

Alonzo's hand slowly tightened into a fist. Alarmed, Morgan let go of his wrist, quickly retreating a step, trying to think of something that would placate him. But Alonzo only gave him a curt nod, not quite meeting his eyes. Tight-lipped, he mumbled, "All right."

"What?"

"I said I'm all right!" he snapped. His clenched hand trembled. "I've got it... under control now."

"Okay... okay." Morgan decided not to dispute the point. "So let's get out of here, find our way back to the others."

There was a hard set to Alonzo's jaw. "You go on. I'll catch up."

"I... um, I dunno if that's such a good idea."

Alonzo didn't seem to care what Morgan thought. Pushing past him, he picked up the Terrian staff. It did not look as out of place in his grip as Morgan supposed it should have.

"What... what are you going to do?"

There was a hint of a frown on Alonzo's face as he regarded the staff he held. "I'm going to finish what I came here to do."

"Oh. Great. I hate to be the one to burst your heroic little bubble, flyboy, but you and I didn't actually **come **here to do anything – we were dragged here, kicking and screaming—"

"Speak for yourself."

"—and if you head back there, armed with just a stick, for god's sake, **you're** the one who's going to be finished! You're not going to be able to sneak up on that thing. It's not just some dumb probe robot – Reilly's tapped into it and he's watching for us now. I'm lucky **I** got away. If you're really so dead-set on 'killing the machine,' then the smart thing – the **sane **thing to do is turn around, find our way back to the others, and get their help. If we go now, maybe we can—"

"Morgan," Alonzo interrupted, his voice lowering to a tone of deep irritation, "if you have any brilliant ideas that **don't** involve running away, I'd be happy to hear them. Otherwise, just keep your mouth shut, okay?"

Stung, Morgan fell momentarily silent, biting back several rejoinders about just how effective Alonzo's more impulsive actions had been so far. The unspoken words burned in his throat, until he finally couldn't restrain himself any longer. "You know what your problem is, Solace?"

"Gee, Morgan, why don't you tell me?" Alonzo replied tonelessly, somehow managing to fill the words with sarcasm in spite of that.

"You don't ever know when to back off! Not even when it's the smart, sensible thing to do. No, you go running in without thinking, and look where it gets you," Morgan sputtered furiously, levelling an accusing finger at Alonzo as the other man pointedly ignored him, which only inflamed him further. "You'd still be sitting behind that boulder if I hadn't been able to disarm that robot," he reminded him. "And you'd be **dead** now if it weren't so low on power reserves when it zapped you. Or if your little wanna-be-Terrian-bird-buddies hadn't been quick enough to catch you. But does any of that make you stop and think? No! You just keep doing the same idiot thing over and over, like some VR transmission stuck on auto-repeat! Now you're going to go running back there like some deranged lunatic, waving your magic stick, and— and do what! You've got to be out of your mind! You don't know how to use that thing—"

Even at the best of times, that outburst might have been enough to antagonize Alonzo, but at the moment, the other man had considerably less restraint. Morgan was perceptive enough to realize that he'd gone too far, but by that time it was much too late to take back his words, or to evade the other man's sudden movement.

Alonzo's face twisted, and he whirled about. Morgan cried out sharply as the staff connected painfully with his ankles, sweeping his feet out from under him, and he fell hard onto his back. With half the breath knocked from his lungs, he lay there wheezing as Alonzo stood over him, the Terrian staff held menacingly ready in his hands. "Don't you tell me," he hissed with barely contained rage, "—**you**, of all people – what I know and what I do not know."

A flicker of static danced like quicksilver over the top of the staff, dissipating so rapidly that Morgan wasn't sure he'd seen it. But the dark glare of Alonzo's displeasure was unmistakable.

This time, Morgan held his tongue.

* * *

Though the morning sunlight was now touching the peaks of the mountains above, the valleys beneath were still heavily overshadowed. Danziger hoped that gloom might help them approach undetected, if Reilly were monitoring the area. They'd all agreed to keep their gear channels open, but, until they found Alonzo or Morgan, to keep communications silence as much as possible.

"Here," Danziger decided, eyeing the rough periphery of the mountain's slope. "This is good. Stop here."

Bringing the Dune Rail to a rattling halt, Yale said, "Take care," as Danziger and Bess climbed out of the vehicle, relinquishing it to Yale and Julia. The doctor didn't say anything at all, was too focused on scouring the shadowed mountainside with her jumpers.

"You, too," Danziger returned briskly. "Good luck," he added as the vehicle pulled away, Yale and Julia heading off to their assigned search point on the western side of the mountain. Walman and Cameron were already patrolling the east. Now it was just a matter of who found the missing men first. Since they'd only had the two vehicles to spare, Danziger had decided he and Bess would start by immediately tackling the mountain slope, while the other two teams searched the perimeter before moving in closer.

"What do you think of that trail there?" Bess asked him, pointing out a possible footpath.

"Looks as good as any," he agreed, hefting the MagPro over his shoulder. "Maybe even a little better. Let's go."

The two of them didn't get very far before the first winged creature swooped by overhead, casting a darker shadow down as it peered curiously down at them. "Danziger—"

"I see it. You think we should find another path?"

She paused, glancing searchingly around, then shook her head. "No. This is the best way up. If Morgan's up there, then I'm going up there." She continued resolutely up the slope.

And, really, she was right. This was the easiest, safest path in view at the moment. As it was, Danziger suspected that this peak was going to be too high and too steep to scale without way more equipment than they were able to carry. Hopefully, then, Alonzo and Morgan weren't really at the summit, or they were already making their way down and he and Bess would meet them somewhere in the middle. Otherwise... well, he didn't know what they'd do then.

Danziger trailed after Bess, continuing to eye the creature warily – perhaps as warily as it eyed him – but it seemed content only to look, and eventually flew higher up to perch on the rock face far above them. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but notice as another winged creature flittered up to join the first, and a few moments later still another joined in the vigil. Gave him the creeps. Though the weight of the weapon on his shoulder was unwieldy, he was glad he had it with him.

"They're not threatening us. They're just watching. Maybe they know we don't mean them any harm," Bess said thoughtfully, her gaze also turned cautiously upward. "Maybe they know we've come for Morgan and Alonzo."

"Maybe," he agreed guardedly, even as he was remembering Uly's dream-spoken warning: 'willful and relentless, dangerous in need'. And that admonition coming from the Terrians, who really didn't even register on Danziger's list of favourite things about this planet. He strongly suspected that the winged creatures might not care who came wandering into their territory, but that no one was going to be walking out of here until they got what they wanted. "And maybe not. I don't really care, so long as they stay out of our way."

"But the Terrians have never harmed us," she said fervently, as if she needed to believe that.

'Those things aren't Terrian.' That rebuttal was on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to swallow the words before they were spoken. But if Julia's research was right, those things had been messing with Alonzo's head, and he had no idea what shape he'd be in by the time they finally found him. Or, for that matter, Morgan.

"I don't like all this Terrian weirdness. Winged or otherwise. Never have." Their dealings with them were always fraught with uncertainty, with too many 'maybes' and 'what if's and 'should we'. He preferred a direct threat, with a direct response. "But they're not the only thing we've got to worry about," he reminded Bess. "Don't forget, Reilly's hijacked a robot up here, too."

"Reilly can stay up here forever, for all I care," Bess replied, "as long as I get Morgan back."

Though Danziger was partially inclined to agree, he didn't think the winged creatures were going to see it that way.

* * *

Alonzo set a determined pace as he made his way over the ruined hilltop, and Morgan grumbled hopelessly to himself as he followed about forty steps behind. He told himself that it was because he wanted to keep a safe distance between himself and the dangerously unstable pilot – and that **was** part of it – but the fact was, he was having a hard time keeping up.

Morgan had no idea how the man could possibly maintain such stamina, especially after all that had happened. They'd been stranded up here with no food and no shelter, so Morgan didn't think his own fatigue was unwarranted. In contrast, Alonzo's boundless energy struck him as more than a little unnatural, and he was inclined to consider it yet another blatantly obvious symptom of impending doom.

Problem was, Morgan supposed he didn't really have any choice but to follow.

After all, if he let Alonzo run off to go get killed doing glorious battle with the enemy, everyone would say he should have stopped him, because the man had obviously gone wacky. On the other hand, he didn't see how his tagging along behind Alonzo was going to help matters. If they both got killed, Morgan was pretty sure it was still going to somehow end up being his fault.

In any case, Morgan had no desire to pick any further arguments with the uncharacteristically twitchy pilot. But an increasing number of winged Terrians were flying along the low line of the plateau's horizon, looking like a dark thundercloud gathering as they watched vigilantly from their safe distance, as though they were expecting something to happen soon. Morgan scowled sourly in their direction, trying to think of some way to divert Alonzo.

"Hey, what do you think," he called out breathlessly in his best friendly, non-confrontational voice, "about maybe resting for an hour or so. Or even half-an-hour," he compromised. "I'm sure the others will have found a way to us by then... Don't you think that's a good idea?"

Dead silence as Alonzo marched staunchly onward.

"Didn't think you'd think so," Morgan huffed, then tried another tactic. "Wait up! I'm coming too."

Alonzo almost paused at that remark, his head angled slightly sideways as if he were trying to catch a glimpse of Morgan.

Morgan hoped that was an encouraging sign. "We're still on the same side, right? You and me. Give me a minute to catch my breath. After all, it's not like Reilly's going anywhere..."

Shouldn't have mentioned Reilly, he realized, as Alonzo picked up the pace again.

Morgan's stomach twisted with anxiety as he recognized their surroundings, realized they were almost back at the spot where the data collector had crashed. "I don't suppose you're ready to reconsider this," he called out urgently as he scrambled after Alonzo, knowing his protests were probably useless, but trying anyway. "There's just no way this is going to end well..."

Alonzo made no reply, but stalked up and over the crest of the hill with an utter disregard for his own safety, every step dislodging a footfull of stones, which clattered noisily down the slope. The moment Alonzo had stepped into sight, the targeting mechanism on the data collector spun round, seemed to fixate on its target with a malevolent anticipation. Wholly oblivious to the danger, Alonzo confronted the robot, with no protection but the Terrian staff he'd pressed firmly against the ground in front of him.

"Welcome back, Mr. Solace, Mr. Martin," Reilly greeted. "So nice to see you again. I was hoping you'd return."

Morgan heard the loud drone of the weapons systems powering up. "Alonzo! Don't—!" The idiot was just going to stand there and let himself be blasted into ash.

Too late. As the laser fire struck, the staff flared with a near blinding intensity. Alonzo staggered backwards, but held tenaciously to the staff as the energy crackled and dissipated. The robot fired twice more, and Morgan didn't know whether Alonzo was using the Terrian staff to catch the blast, absorb it or diffuse it or whatever, but he appeared to be unharmed.

Not only that, but somehow he was actually managing to return fire. Morgan watched, goggle-eyed, as a startling flare of energy tunnelled up the staff, then blazed into lightning as it reached the peak of the staff. Alonzo wielded the staff with grim assurance, directing the lightning toward the data collector.

"Ah, I see the Terrians have you running interference for them," Reilly announced after a brief pause. "But we have ways of dealing with them, and you are not Terrian..."

The power systems whirred as an alternate weapon swung into alignment, spilling forth a menacing yellow surge of chemical energy that raced swiftly across the ground. It rattled up the slope with terrifying speed, looked like it would break over them in a deadly wave. Morgan didn't have time to do anything but hold his breath.

Alonzo was fighting it, a strained cry ripping from his throat as he drew the energy into the staff, or forced it down into the ground, or whatever it was he was doing to make the thick current swirl around the Terrian staff like a whirlpool before dissipating. But the effort had cost him, and Alonzo leaned heavily against the staff as if he needed it to stay upright.

* * *

"Danziger!" The persistent gear silence was broken as Baines' image flared into view, his voice loud and alarmed. "Danziger, we've got something! All of a sudden, multiple signals going back and forth – same as before. Reilly's talking – I don't know what he's saying, but he's definitely talking now—"

"Shut it down."

"I do that," he warned, "it'll cut off all comm traffic – even ours—"

"Yeah, I got it. Now, shut it down," he ordered. "Right now!"

The image abruptly disappeared and the words 'Transmission failure' flickered over the blue-gray field now being displayed on the gearset.

"What happened, Danziger?" Bess demanded, as he flipped back the eyepiece. "What did he say?"

"It's Reilly," he replied brusquely, his eyes scouring the endless irregular surface of the mountainside towering above them for the smallest hint of the missing men. "He's transmitting again. Either he's spotted us, or Morgan and Alonzo. Baines is jamming him, but that won't last long. Come on," he said, breaking into a jog as he made his way further up the slope, trying to find cover. "We need to get closer, maybe there we'll be out of sight."

"And what if it's not us that he's found, but Morgan and Alonzo?" she asked, running alongside him. "We have to help them!"

If the two of them were up there, on the peak, there was no possible way he and Bess – or Julia and Yale, or Cameron and Walman – were going to be able to get there fast enough to make any difference. They were on their own.

"This **will **help," he insisted. "It'll buy them a few minutes to get out of there. A few minutes might be all they need." But a niggling doubt wriggled in his mind as he craned his head upwards to see several of the winged creatures circling far above like grim harbingers — and he just hoped to hell that Morgan and Alonzo would actually use this opportunity to make their escape.

* * *

"Hmm," Reilly's robot-voice buzzed in what might have been perturbation. "That was unexpected. You should not have been able to deflect that."

Alonzo didn't look like he was going to be able to deflect another bout.

"No matter," Reilly decided. "But you will make for a most interesting post-mortem."

Another surge of energy began jolting outwards, then abruptly evaporated as the weapons system paused. "Signal lost," the data collector stated in a repetitive drone, "Long-range comm system down. Signal lost – signal lost – recalibr—"

Morgan's jaw dropped with surprise. What the hell had just happened there?

Alonzo did not even pause to consider it, but immediately pressed his advantage. Another blast of blue-white electrical energy from the Terrian weapon, and the targeting array abruptly stopped moving.

"Defense systems offline," the robot reported. "Offline. Critical damage. Insufficient reserves for repair. Awaiting instruction. Awaiting instruction..."

"I don't believe it," Morgan mumbled, hesitantly moving to stand beside Alonzo. "You actually disabled it – Reilly can't control it now. Alonzo?" he prompted uneasily. The other man's breath was rattling unevenly, his hands still clenched tightly around the Terrian staff. "Are you okay?"

Alonzo looked at him, blank-eyed and expressionless, and looked away again.

Without a word, the other man unexpectedly lunged towards the unmoving metal hulk. In a fury, Alonzo swung the staff like an axe, bringing the end of it down upon the data collector's damaged engine casings. Sparks flew up with every strike. The battered walls began to buckle – he was going to ignite the whole thing—

"Stop! Stop! STOP!" Morgan seized Alonzo by the shoulder, spinning him away from the robot, and found himself standing between Alonzo and his prey. Alonzo rounded upon him, the staff upraised, and Morgan threw up his hands. _Oh god, he's going to kill me..._

"Out. Get out." Alonzo seemed to have stopped the staff in mid-swing; his fingers were clenched and shaking, his voice guttural. "Out of the way."

"N-no." That wasn't what he'd intended to say. "I mean, wait. Just a moment. Stop and think, okay? You have to stop. The engine will ignite. You'll kill us both. Do you understand?"

"It. Must. Be. Destroyed." Every word wrenched from the core of his being; he shuddered again, the staff throwing off anxious sparks as he restrained it. "Must. Move."

"O-okay," he said, his hands still outstretched in what he hoped was a calming manner. "Okay. We have to kill the machine. I got that part – okay?" Morgan's thoughts raced, scrambling to find a stalling tactic that the other man would accept. There was no way of reasoning with him: it was obvious that Alonzo was running on auto-pilot now – and every instinct would push him back here, again and again, until the job was done. "Has to be destroyed," he echoed, hoping his agreement would calm the other man somewhat. "But we don't have to kill ourselves doing it, okay?"

Though Alonzo still held his staff uplifted threateningly, he hadn't struck him yet. Morgan took that as an encouraging sign.

"Kill," Alonzo uttered.

"Kill the machine," Morgan corrected quickly, trying not to lapse into babbling. "The **machine**. Not us. Okay? You keep hitting it like that, it's going to explode, and you're going to die – but the machine might not. Now, I have a plan. I can stop it – I can get past the codes and get it to self-destruct. Self-destruct. Bang. It will be destroyed. Dead. Do you... do you get what I'm saying?"

A minute shifting of Alonzo's head was the only answer he was given.

"Let me do it. Let me take care of it. I promise you," Morgan tried again, desperate, "I promise you that it'll be destroyed."

With a visible effort, Alonzo forced his arms down, lowering the staff. "Go," he grated urgently, his jaw clenched so tightly that his voice was almost unrecognizable. "Do it."

"Okay. Good. Doing that now..." Taking care to make no sudden movements, Morgan backed cautiously away from him and toward the data collector, not at all comforted by the way Alonzo shadowed his steps.

Though he really didn't want to turn his back on the other man, Morgan couldn't see any way around it. Seizing a deep breath, he turned toward the data collector and activated the manual interface. "Okay," he breathed unsteadily, "here we go."

He tried a few basic decryption tactics, but quickly gave that up as hopeless. That was a time-consuming way of breaking into the system, and he had a dreadful feeling that any reprieve Alonzo gave him was bound to be short-lived. There had to be a quicker way. But since Reilly had purged the passwords from the database, Morgan was effectively locked out of all the higher functions. "Maybe the basic command sets?" he muttered to himself. "There might be something there we can use..." The system accepted his first query, information scrolling across the screen in response. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere."

Fixing his attention on the small display screen in front of him, he searched for something useful. The schematics and diagrams being displayed related to maintenance and hardware and were mostly unfamiliar to Morgan; they probably would have meant more to someone like Danziger who knew his way in and out of these technical details.

Taking a chance, he tried activating one of the few available programs. "Downloading data files," the computer stated. "Warning: long-distance comm systems down. Short-range comm channels only. Manual confirm receipt? Downloading data..."

"Okay, that was completely useless," Morgan muttered, the display screen showing a whirling symbol while the computer busied itself spooling its data to nowhere. "Cancel that, and try something else..."

Somewhere overhead or nearby, one of the bird-creatures gave a high-pitched shrieking cry, and behind him, Alonzo drew his breath in sharply. "Morgan," Alonzo grated, a desperate edge to his voice, as if he were aware that his self-control was fraying.

"Wait! Just a little longer. I've almost got it," he lied, not even daring to turn around. Frantically, he wracked his brain for some trick he could use, but there was nothing, no way he could think of to break into the system. He simply didn't have the time; the encryption levels were too complex and if he couldn't break that layer, then he wasn't going to get anywhere near the self-destruct codes...

On second thought, maybe he was going about this the wrong way. After all, the sabotage to the Roanoke had been deceptively simple: disable a release mechanism and let the cargo drag the ship down. No special security access had been required, just basic Ops. An idea started in the back of his mind.

"Morgan." Alonzo was losing it.

"Wait," he murmured distractedly. "I can do it now. I've got it figured out." He worked as quickly as he possibly could, struggling to recall all the old codes and commands, and trying very hard not to hear Alonzo's increasingly agitated movements behind him. "Just give me a minute."

"No." The word was ragged. "Now..."

"We can use the standard, non-secure command set," Morgan said, talking over Alonzo's protests. "There's the diagnostics... and the power cycle..." A few visual graphs and output charts appeared, all labelled in some indecipherable techno-babble. He hoped to hell that he was doing this right.

"Move."

Morgan didn't move, didn't dare turn around. "Wait." The diagnostic screen displayed various energy levels, fluctuating in a steady cycle, then showed a sharp escalation in energy output. A low whining sound issued from the data collector unit. "I did it. I actually did it." He double-checked the displays to make sure he was reading it right: he'd used the maintenance function to suppress the damage reports, and cued the engines to power up. And without coolant, those systems would quickly overheat and explode. "Alonzo, I've—"

He turned; eyes widening, he flung himself to the ground. The staff in Alonzo's hands was flaming with electricity; he barely gave Morgan time to get out of the way before smashing it violently down atop the robot. A shower of sparks cascaded outward in response. With a yelp, Morgan scuttled sideways, trying to avoid being stepped on by Alonzo or electrocuted by a stray bolt.

"Alonzo, stop! This whole thing is going to explode! We need to get away!" He tugged at Alonzo's arms to get his attention, trying to make him understand. "The engines are going to blow up! We've got to go now! Don't you get it! This is useless! I've already done it! Stop it – you don't have to—"

There was no hint of comprehension in the pilot's face; only a dark primal rage that was bent on destruction. With an almost negligent gesture of his staff, Alonzo knocked Morgan aside and turned his attention back to attacking the robot with a single-minded ferocity.

The deep thrumming of the engines grew steadily louder. Morgan stumbled to his feet, shouting, "Alonzo!" but the man was oblivious to him. If he could somehow get past Alonzo, then maybe he could delay the process somehow – to give them time to get away. But the sound of the engines abruptly changed, and Morgan realized it was way too late for that now. The sequence had already started.

"This is stupid," he hissed in a warning he knew he wasn't going to heed, "this is one of those things that will get you killed." Leaping at Alonzo, Morgan took him by surprise for a brief moment, and Alonzo fell heavily against the data collector's hull, with Morgan clinging to his back. In theory, his plan involved wrestling Alonzo away from here and dragging him off to safety. In reality, that was proving harder than it looked.

Breaking free, Alonzo whirled upon Morgan with an inhuman snarl. He seized at Morgan's throat with one hand, holding him steady as the other arm brought the Terrian staff down in a killing stroke.

With both hands and all the bodily momentum he could muster, Morgan smashed Alonzo's head back against the hull of the data collector. The impact staggered the pilot; he sagged forward in a daze, the edge of the staff only clipping Morgan's shoulder instead of crunching his skull. However, even that glancing blow was enough to send Morgan to his knees with a howl of pain, an electric current rippling along the nerves of his now-useless right arm.

"Ow, damn, that hurts! I told you," he gritted through clenched teeth, unable to resist the 'I told you so' even though he was only talking to himself, "I told you this was going to get you killed." They'd been here too long already, and he'd wasted too much time fighting uselessly with Alonzo – if he waited any longer, there would be no way, no way that he could possibly escape before the engines blew up. But he couldn't just leave the other man here to die... And yet... and yet what about Bess? He had to try to get back to her, didn't he?

Already, Alonzo was hauling himself off the ground, albeit in a slower, more clumsy manner. He grabbed at Morgan, who cringed and tried to dodge away, only to realize at the last moment that Alonzo wasn't actually coming after him, but was reaching past him, fixated on the Terrian staff lying just out of reach.

Morgan let himself fall back to the ground, twisting around to plant the foot of his uninjured leg firmly against Alonzo's chest, and kicked him out of the way. Thrown backward, Alonzo landed heavily on his back. Scrambling upright, Morgan didn't waste any time, but grabbed the staff with his one good hand. It didn't burn, didn't flicker, felt like nothing more than a piece of wood in his grip. "You want this?" he shouted, brandishing the staff in front of Alonzo's eerily fixed gaze. "Then go get it!" And he flung it through the air as hard as he could, pitching it back in the direction that they'd come.

Alonzo lurched back to his feet, staggering past Morgan as he made his way up the slope with fanatical single-mindedness, his eyes riveted to the spot where the staff had fallen. Morgan stumbled weakly after him, then hooked his one good arm overtop Alonzo's shoulder and let the pilot drag him along in his wake. Alonzo seemed oblivious to the extra weight. "We're dead," Morgan huffed, doggedly trying to match the other man's untiring pace. "I hope you know that. We're both going to die up here. I hope you're happy now."

Alonzo didn't care. Alonzo didn't care about anything now. Just his weapon and his vengeance and whatever else it was that the winged Terrian creatures had set rattling around in his psyche.

Behind them, the sound of the engines cycling up had grown ominously loud and continued to build. Already, an intense heat was radiating from the engines. Though he had no idea what a safe distance would be, Morgan instinctively knew that they were still too close, much too close. They'd barely crested the hill, and Alonzo was pausing now, stooping down to retrieve the Terrian staff. Morgan yanked him forward. Everything grew suddenly brighter as the engines flared to life, and there was an almost unbearably loud grinding sound as the bulky weight of the robot began to shift and scrape over the rocky surface.

Morgan felt, rather than heard, the detonation. With jarring force, a wave of heat slammed into him from behind, a blistering wind that blasted him off his feet, and both of them were flung through the air. Desperately trying to keep from landing directly on his head, Morgan fell awkwardly onto his side as he came crashing down onto the rocky ground. He lifted his head just long enough to see that Alonzo had tumbled down not far from him, then shut his eyes again as hot fragments of dust and stone and debris hailed down all around. Almost as an afterthought, he could hear the sound of the explosions roaring in his ears.

* * *

Danziger halted in midstride as the static lifted his gearset and Baines' face suddenly appeared.

"What's happening?" Danziger demanded, without preamble. "Why'd you stop blocking—"

"Something's going on," Baines interrupted, frazzled. "Scanners are showing a big energy build-up. Not on the comm systems but—"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, broke off as a flare of intense light suddenly blossomed at the top of the mountain far above. Almost immediately, a roaring sound tore through the air, rising to a tremendous pitch as it echoed and reverberated through the winding canyons. Burning debris and thick clouds of smoke boiled outward from the site of the explosion, and, as if startled from their perches on the side of the mountain, countless winged creatures took to the air.

"Morgan!" Bess gasped, both hands clasped to her mouth.

* * *

Everything hurt. It hurt to move. It even hurt to breathe.

A hot wind, thick with smoke and dust, flew all around – his lungs choked down the cloying air under protest. For a long moment, the only thing he could hear was a deafening roar – it resounded in his ears even after the explosions finally ceased. Beneath that, he could hear the erratic, thunderous sound of metal hitting stone, but it faded swiftly, leaving only the sounds of birds. Birds of prey, a sharp, shrill, joyous note in their calling.

Winged memories pulsed through his mind, and Alonzo tried to get up. He choked back a cry, his wrist quivering with pain. Don't move it. Don't move.

Clutching the injured hand protectively close, he clumsily got to his feet without the aid of his hands, his breath coming in searing, shallow gasps. The air was too hot to breathe, but he couldn't not breathe either.

Squinting dazedly about him, he saw that the other one was huddled nearby. Morgan... yes, that was his name. Morgan. It was a difficult thing to remember. He knew it should not be, but it was. His head was swirling with a thousand things he had no name for, and the sheer intensity of those things made it difficult to comprehend anything else.

Morgan was saying something, but whatever it was did not seem important. Turning away from him, Alonzo shuffled unsteadily through the detritus of stone and charred metal, and then atop the crest of the hill. The crater where the robot had once been sitting had now been blasted into an even more irregular shape. He stopped, then had to retreat a step, the ground beneath his feet too hot even for his sturdy boots. But from where he stood at the periphery of the blast radius, he could see that the data collector itself was gone. Half his mind could not quite absorb that; the other half reasoned that the engines and the explosion had given the machine enough momentum to send any surviving remnants tumbling off the cliff.

For a long moment, he just stood there, at a loss. The probe robot was gone, and with it, the overwhelming compulsion that had governed him. While the forceful commotion of alien images and memories remained, there was no longer a unified voice, no specific directive – it was all melting into a random and disordered cacophony. He didn't know what to do.

In the sky, the swift silhouettes of the winged Terrians streamed overhead. A few circled watchfully, but most of the flock dropped downward in pursuit with a vengeful shriek, an abundant dark river of them cascading down after the fallen machinery. If there were anything at all left of the robot after impact, they would tear apart those fragments until there was nothing left at all. They'd waited so long for this hunt, flinging themselves into it now with joyous rage as they flew freely through the sky.

Flying. He remembered flying. That was part of him... wasn't it?

Bewildered, Alonzo tottered unsteadily toward the airborne creatures, still caught up in the sweep of their emotions. He might very well have followed them unthinkingly off the side of the cliff, except the memory of having fallen here once before was still too vivid in his mind – at the very brink of the precipice, he hesitated, undecided.

A long, glorious expanse of air and sky stretched invitingly before him, just a step away. A single step into beautiful, peaceful, silent air. Wind and wings, so tantalizing, and he almost leaned into it... yet that other part of him raged against it, warned and threatened that it would be falling, it would be death. Within him, the two sets of memories clattered with equal strength, both warring to be heard and be obeyed, and Alonzo stood frozen to the spot, unable to answer either of them.

In a pained and rasping voice, Morgan was railing at him – "no, come back, come back here!" – but his words were just gibberish, spoken in that other language that more than half his mind no longer understood.

One of the winged creatures departed from the flock, circling through the sky with a graceful arc to alight on the spot where Alonzo stood, forcing him to retreat a step. He recognized this one, the mottled gray wings. Gray-wings. Elder. Guide and guardian. Wind and wings. Yes, Gray-wings would know what to do. Gray-wings would tell him...

Alonzo reached out his unbroken hand, wanting to touch, to be heard... _Help..._

Large dark eyes glittering, Gray-wings enfolded him in its wings, then pressed its forehead against his own.

His breath caught sharply in his throat, his pulse raced wildly, as it always did when they spoke to him this way, but he was so tired now, he would have fallen if it had not clasped him so securely in its wings.

_/ gratitude / promise fulfilled / we take our words / our memories / not yours / harmful to you / never wish harm / necessity / thankful and thanking / free / return you / walking and waking one / we / do not forget / we take back our words /_

Reaching into his mind, it found the link between them and broke it. Even as Alonzo began to register what was happening, the knowledge was dissolving. A cold breath of air washed through his mind, purging the inhuman noises and quieting the clamor of their many voices. The almost unbearable pressure within him began to ease and fade, and when the winged being released him and stepped away, Alonzo abruptly felt the maddening echo of its thoughts cease within him. Taking wing, the creature spun away from him, stepping back into the air to return to its flock.

His skull ached as though it had been rubbed raw, but it was blessedly free of chatter; it was silent and alone and his once more. Alonzo thought he would melt with relief. And then, as it was entirely too much effort to continue standing, he let himself sink slowly to the ground. Very distantly, he was aware of a pronounced trembling in his limbs.

They were gone; he was alone; he was so very tired...

A particularly piercing noise caught his attention, roused him somewhat. Morgan was hunched over him, wild-eyed and frantic. For a moment, Alonzo didn't recognize him. Except for the alarming white of his eyes, and the slippery, vivid red that drenched the right side of his face, Morgan was almost entirely coloured in ashen, muddy shades of dust and dirt. The panic in his gaze lessened slightly as Alonzo began to respond.

"You look like hell, Solace." His voice grated painfully, but sounded almost relieved.

Alonzo almost gave in to a giddy urge to laugh, but his lungs didn't feel like they were quite capable of it. "Shit," he retorted, his voice making the same rasping sound as Morgan's. Morgan's face creased in puzzlement; Alonzo clarified: "You look like shit, Martin."

An anxious half-smile flicked across the other man's face. "Yeah, well, I feel like it too." Morgan winced uncomfortably as he spoke, his left arm clutched about his middle while his right arm dangled. "Are you... are you back to normal? Are you yourself again?"

Such a peculiar question. Alonzo wondered if he really knew the answer to that. "I think so."

"We've got to get down from here," Morgan urged, every few words punctuated by fits of coughing. "The smoke. Not good for us. I'm not doing so good... neither are you, I guess. I don't suppose your bird-friends are going to put us back?"

Alonzo couldn't quite recall now just what had been in their minds and their thoughts – it was all slipping away from him. He stared mutely up at Morgan, able to see the winged creatures darting exultantly back and forth in the sky above.

Morgan peered back down at him, his face pinched. "Okay, whatever. But I don't think we can sit here and wait for them to clue in. We have to go. Can you get up?"

He wanted to. He wanted to be strong and determined and in control. Just as he always had been, back before he'd ever heard of G889. But he was the one lying collapsed on the ground, while it was now Morgan who knew what to do, Morgan who was kneeling over him, and Alonzo couldn't even muster the strength to sit upright. He tried to raise his head, let it drop back as his vision began to blur. "I... don't think I can."

"Alonzo, we'll die up here. You have to."

"Just... just give me a minute... to rest. I'll be all right... in a minute." It was a lie – he knew it was a lie, but it was the only thing he had to offer. The adrenaline-charged strength that had sustained him for so long had finally faltered as his mind was returned to him, and he felt, now, as though his entire body were shutting down. Alonzo let his eyes begin to slip shut as the stifling weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, too potent to resist.

"You have to get up," Morgan insisted mercilessly. "Come on. Get up. You have to get up."

"No... 'm tired..."

Morgan scrabbled around, was feebly trying to pull Alonzo to a sitting position. But even that small movement made his head spin, and he flailed awkwardly with his good hand, pushing Morgan away. "Arghh—!" Instantly, Morgan let go, letting him drop back to the ground.

Obviously he'd hurt Morgan somehow. Alonzo felt vaguely sorry for that, but didn't quite have enough presence of mind left to figure out how to voice that sentiment. "Just wanna sleep," he mumbled.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Morgan wheezed plaintively.

"Y... you're... not my... doctor," Alonzo managed to say, then let his eyes drop shut even as Morgan was starting to say something else. Whatever it was, Alonzo didn't hear it.

* * *

Morgan thought maybe he was delirious by the time the wings returned.

He wasn't sure how long it had been, but the sun was now high overhead, burning away all the early morning chill as it moved toward afternoon, and Morgan had surprised himself by continuing to draw breath. He'd half expected he'd be dead by now, but a blustery wind had risen, blowing away the noxious smoke and bringing sharp clear air in its place. His chest still hurt, still rattled, but at least now he was able to breathe clean air.

"I suppose things could be worse," he muttered to himself, and his voice didn't even sound like it belonged to him any more. It groaned and wheezed with the trembling tones of an old, old man.

Exactly **how** it could be worse, he wasn't entirely certain. After all, he was stranded atop a desolate expanse of rock with no food, water or shelter, and his only company was a half-crazed, now comatose pilot. Morgan couldn't possibly lift him, not in the condition he was in, but he couldn't just leave him either. And, realistically, Morgan knew he'd never be able to climb back down on his own anyway.

So, in the absence of any other options, Morgan sat there, trying to figure out exactly where he'd gone wrong, how he could have avoided this. He couldn't quite find a satisfactory answer to that riddle either.

The easiest solution was simply to place the blame for all of this upon Alonzo. After all, it was trying to help those damn creatures that had got them into this mess in the first place. If he'd realized sooner what was happening; if he hadn't stubbornly insisted nothing was wrong until it was too late... Morgan wanted to be able to seethe in that righteous anger, to sulk in the feeling that it just wasn't fair. At the moment, however, that seemed like too much effort.

And besides, he knew the other man hadn't asked for this, he hadn't willingly chosen it – it had simply happened to him. The same way that Bess had unwittingly become a carrier for 'spring', and had gone running madly off to complete her task. Or the way that Danziger had been infected with the spirit of an angry dead Terrian.

Around here, those kinds of things just happened.

From the first day when the group had arrived at these canyons, the winged Terrians had obviously been waiting for Alonzo – Morgan had just been unlucky enough to be standing next to him at the time, and he had got hauled along for the ride as well. Exactly why they'd bothered with him, he wasn't sure – maybe all humans looked alike to them; maybe they'd had to see them up close to recognize one from another. After all, they had needed to physically touch Alonzo in order to communicate.

In any case, Morgan realized he had a real knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was too bad there was no money to be made from such a talent, otherwise, he and Bess would have been horribly wealthy by now.

A strange noise roused him, and he looked up.

There were wings in the air. So many winged shapes flying overhead. They flocked and flitted and spun through the air, a great constellating parade of them. He wondered if he was supposed to be impressed.

"Go away," he groaned. "Shoo. Leave us alone..."

That big ugly one – the old-looking one with the wide tattered gray wings – the one that had been persistently hovering around Alonzo, conversing or coercing or whatever the hell it did to communicate with him – the gray-winged creature alighted a few feet away from them.

Watching with dull resignation, Morgan couldn't muster the energy to be afraid. Perhaps it was the altitude, or the smoke-thinned air, or the fact that he hadn't eaten or slept well for what seemed like years, but was only little more than a day or two. Or maybe it was just that no matter how much he argued or fussed, he never seemed able to change the way things turned out. Morgan wasn't sure.

The gray-winged creature moved towards them, gave a piercing cry, and then a sparse number of smaller creatures dropped down from the sky to flutter about nearby. They skimmed unsteadily through the air with bright blinking eyes, flying back and forth in clumsy circles. The large ones, the adult ones, hovered protectively near.

"Oh," he muttered, slowly comprehending the significance of small wings, little creatures. "Is that what you came to show us? The next crop of locusts has hatched at last. How nice." They couldn't understand him anyway, so what was the point of pretending to be polite? "Finally remembered to stop by and say thanks? Because that really just – it just makes it all worthwhile. Gives me a little glowing feeling inside. Oh wait," he coughed, wincing as he did so, "maybe that's just my roasted lungs. My mistake."

The creature had turned to regard him as he spoke – large unblinking eyes and no discernable hint of emotion on its face. Other birds from the flock drew near, and the group of them shuffled and shifted slightly, wings brushing and touching against one another – speaking to each other, perhaps – and then the gray-winged creature tilted its head and warbled at him.

"Sorry," he wheezed, gesturing feebly toward Alonzo, "but my translator's not working. He can't hear you," he sighed wearily, as the creature continued to chitter unintelligibly, "and I think you've broken his brain."

Another fit of coughing took him – shouldn't have spoken so much, the words were only aggravating his already irritated throat. When he raised his head again, he let out a yelp of alarm – a winged creature was towering over him, alarmingly near, its wings outstretched and fluttering as it shifted from one clawed foot to another. He scooted backward, using his good arm to ward it away. "No! Get back— get away—!"

With an offended squawk, the creature did retreat, leaping into the air as if to fly away. But with unexpected speed it dropped down atop him, snaring him by the shoulders and almost knocking him flat in the process. He was wrenched off the ground and into the air – his mind had just enough time to register the sickening flare of pain in his wounded shoulder and his side – and then he was carried spinning into the sky.

Morgan did not know whether it was falling or flying, living or dying; it was nothing but an awful, painful, dizzying, reeling blur. Almost before he fully grasped that the ground was racing up to meet him, his boots met the earth with a jarring thump; the punishing grip on his shoulders ceased, and he tumbled to the ground, breathing the sand and dust of the canyon floor. Every muscle in his body was trembling with tension, with relief.

Down. He was down. Back on the ground. As easily as that. All that fretting and worrying about how he'd ever find his way off that mountain, and now it was over. And the winged Terrians were already skimming upward into the air, winging their way back up to their lofty perches, way up atop the cliff sides. Morgan fervently hoped he'd never see them again.

As if on cue, a shadow swooped low overhead, and there was a dull thunk as something dropped into the dirt and dust next to him. He blinked with surprise. The Terrian staff Alonzo had used – now singed and blackened, but still intact.

Come to think of it, where was Alonzo—? Craning his neck to peer about him, he saw the other man sprawled nearby, still sleeping or dreaming or whatever-it-was he was doing.

From the other direction, there was a screech, a high-pitched noise. _Now what!_ Morgan cringed inwardly, not wanting to look, but not quite able to keep himself from doing so. Though his vision was a bit on the blurry side, Morgan could see something moving, drawing nearer. For a minute, he was certain it was the Terrians, coming back to retrieve their staff. He wondered if they'd be angry at its condition – it was definitely a little worse for wear. The last thing he needed now was a horde of enraged Terrians.

But the figures weren't quite right, didn't move with the calm dignity of the Terrians – they were racing toward them, calling with strident voices, calling their names, and he finally realized that it was Danziger and Bess.

Bess! His Bess! Morgan managed to do what he'd thought an impossible task only a moment before. One-armed, he pulled himself half upright, catching at her and holding her close as she flung herself at him in a tight embrace that hurt more than it should have, but he still didn't let go.

* * *

Alonzo dreamt of his doctor, of the blue-eyed Dr. Heller with the blond hair and the intent, engrossed expression she wore when she was hard at work. "Fractured wrist," she said, crisp and decisive, her gaze sharp and discerning as she raked it over his body. "Some first- and second-degree burns and inhalation damage, same as Morgan. Concussion. Exhaustion. No overt signs of any persistent neurological impairment, but I'll have to..."

Alonzo stopped listening to her assessment, letting her words fade away. It didn't matter whether he paid attention or not – she was only speaking to her diaglove anyway.

If he'd had a choice, he'd rather have dreamed of his Julia and that soft smile she sometimes gave him when no one else was looking. Not the physician, who was professional and competent and knowledgeable and responsible, and while he'd learned to love her for all those things, he loved her most of all when she was just Julia. For all the quiet moments, when she put away the other roles and let him be with her.

"Alonzo?" Dream-doctor-Julia's sharp tone momentarily caught his attention; she was observing him with her searching eyes. For a moment, she hovered above him, almost real enough to touch, but rapidly slipped out of focus again. "Are you awake? Can you see me? Do you know who I am?"

Silly questions. Of course he knew. It was his dream, after all.

Far above her, a blurry figure leaned over to look down at him, speaking with Danziger's voice. "Lonz? How are you feeling, pal?" And then, more quietly, "Can he hear us?"

"I don't know. He's—"

Alonzo let them both fade back into darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Five days of sleep, and yet he couldn't quite shake the yawn from his speech.

It was just a tiny pause, a restless catch of breath between words, but Julia noticed it and abruptly interrupted his explanation to enquire, "Are you still experiencing fatigue?"

"No." He wasn't, not really.

A tiny frown creased her face, and the diaglove was out again, winking and glimmering away to her as she waved it near his head, his chest.

"I'm sorry to have to keep asking," Danziger said, perhaps by way of distracting him, "but I still don't get it. Just what made those things decide to come after you?"

The questions had been the same, all morning long. What? – where? – how come? – why? – why not? – why at all? – how do you know?

He understood the questions, understood the reasoning behind it. He even understood their doubt. Though it seemed at moments almost too prying and personal, he knew that wasn't the intent. That if it had been anyone else, the questions would have to be asked just the same. That if it had been anyone else, he too would have been waiting for answers.

The only problem was that the answers he gave – the only answers he had – sounded evasive. Insufficient. Even to his own ears.

"The Terrians told them," he replied, keeping his tone even and trying, trying very hard not to sound defensive or angry. _Told them what?_ he thought, anticipating the next question and prodding his own answers. "The Terrians knew we would come here. Or, if not us, others like us. They knew that we could help them, and they told Gra– they told the winged ones that we would help them."

Danziger's mouth compressed into a tight line. "I don't appreciate being **told** what to do. And if the Terrians knew there was a problem, why didn't they do something to help?"

"Too many years of contamination – the land is tainted. They can't pass through it."

"Uh huh." Danziger was unconvinced. "I notice that they got near enough to blast the tires off the DuneRail—"

Yes, and they had been forced to travel over the sandy surface even though the ground beneath them burned and itched at their feet – had to cross the long empty distances, because the dreamer hadn't understood, the dreamer hadn't come to them, and therefore they had to go to him. To take the staff to him. _Take this and free the wings. Free the land and the skies. Undo the curse – slay the dragon— _

"Alonzo!" Julia's voice sounded sharp in his ear, and he snapped back to attention, to see three faces peering at him in concern.

He was a mess. His brain was a mess, his memories still tattered, not quite right. There was an ache from behind his eyes that wasn't at all physical – a psychic ache, as if his mind had been stretched just a little beyond its limits and couldn't quite be stuffed back inside his skull. "What?"

"You weren't listening. You seemed distracted."

"I'm just..." The word 'tired' was on the tip of his tongue. Couldn't get enough sleep, couldn't stop sleeping, as if enough rest could purge the last of the disjointed memories from his mind. Earlier, Julia had spoken to him of delta and theta waves, of subliminal impulses, and prolonged periods of distorted sleep patterns; the explanations had bounced off him without leaving any real comprehension. All he understood – all he needed to understand – was that the cycle was undoing itself. That he would recover – he would be all right. He just needed to rest. "Just thinking," he said at last. "Getting used to being by myself again. Alone in my mind."

The professional mask of Julia's cool blue eyes melted somewhat, and she reached over almost surreptitiously to briefly take his hand. He very nearly flinched, remembering the blistering touch of wingtips, but Julia's touch was silent and warm. He was almost sorry when she pulled her hand away.

"It must have been difficult for you," Yale intoned.

"Yes and no." He saw the surprised expressions, knew that he'd said the wrong thing again. "It's hard to explain. I don't know if I really understood what was happening at the time."

"Do you understand it now?" Yale countered.

"Yes." He bristled a little at the implication. "Of course I do." And then made no effort to explain.

"So, were those things Terrians or not?" Danziger asked in a slight change of subject.

Not. The negative response wanted to spring to his lips – a denial that he sensed coming from both sides – but he hesitated. "Maybe once... long ago, they were the same," he murmured, pulling that piece of information from some indistinct sliver of memory. "But not any more. Not in the same way. The Terrians chose the earth; the winged ones preferred the sky."

"And, what — that's it? That's the reason? Just because of that, now they don't talk to each other?"

"I... I'm not sure. I don't know." They were all staring at him as if expecting some kind of clarification. But he didn't have the words. How could he possibly convey fragments of feelings, or give word to the remnant of an insight that was entirely alien? There was an estrangement between the two Terrian races that went beyond their chosen way of life – Alonzo knew it, he felt it, but he couldn't vocalize it. "Does it matter?"

"I don't know, Lonz," Danziger replied evenly. "That's why I'm asking."

Alonzo looked away.

"No one is accusing you, Alonzo," Yale said, his voice conciliatory, "no one is blaming you for anything. We are all just trying to understand."

"Then try to understand." His own reply clipped and terse.

"We do understand that you weren't acting of your own volition," Julia intervened, and though her tone was meant to be reassuring, Alonzo noticed that she seemed to be choosing her words carefully, consulting the readout on her diaglove. "Although you obviously weren't aware of it, your medical scans showed evidence of subconscious interference stemming from your first encounter with the winged Terrians."

"It wasn't their intent... they weren't trying to control me," he replied, feeling compelled to defend the winged beings, and he knew they would find that suspicious as well. "Not at first," he amended. "But it's different for them. The way they communicate, it can be... overwhelming."

Danziger snorted, as if that were a colossal understatement.

Julia circled slowly around Alonzo – he imagined he could feel her gloved fingers hovering lightly over the back of his neck, and tried not to cringe away from the contact. "Did you ever forget who you were?"

"I was always at least partly aware of a... a sense of self. Even when..." _When I was drowning. Caught in a box and drowning and shouting and no one hearing—_ Alonzo pressed his hands over his eyes. Not the right words. Not helpful. "Even when it was overshadowed. I just..." He struggled to bring a coherent finish to the sentence. "At some point, I just lost the ability to follow that. It wasn't an option any more; it wasn't... didn't seem important."

Now she was standing in front of him again. "Did you ever feel you weren't in control?" The same question as before, phrased differently.

"I wasn't in control."

"But you said—"

Alonzo leaned forward in frustration, lacing his fingers around the back of his neck and staring down at the floor. The moment he did so, he realized it was a deeply defensive posture – all he needed to do now was start rocking back and forth and he'd have them all convinced he was completely bonkers. "I know what I said," he replied evenly, raising his head to glance at the three of them. Julia's countenance was unreadable; Yale's was similarly solemn; Danziger wore an expression of grim consternation, his concern evident.

"From the beginning, yes, there was a strong influence," Alonzo repeated. "But I didn't really recognize it, didn't know it was there until they spoke to me again. Then... things became clearer. When I'd absorbed enough of their memories, enough of a link with them, that I could understand. That data collector unit was killing them. It had been, for decades. The Terrians had promised we would help. And it wasn't enough," he said insistently, though no one was arguing with him, "it wasn't enough to go for help, to bring the rest of you to help. It was my fault, I understood too late; there was no time, the young ones were hatching, and it couldn't wait, they'd waited too long already, and they weren't willing to trust..." Bit his lip and stopped the rattling speech. "Maybe it clouded my judgment," he conceded. "Maybe I didn't make the right decisions."

There was a brief silence, which Yale broke. He wore a deep frown, as if he were loath to mention his concerns, but he noted, "Morgan indicated that you were somewhat violent at times."

"Yeah, well..." Alonzo grimaced, a bit of defiance entering his tone. "Aren't we all, at times." Yale did not miss the implication, and a moment later Alonzo relented. That wasn't fair to bring that up. It didn't have anything to do with this. He made a wan attempt to brush aside his last comment by adding, "Anyway, Morgan kind of brings out those reactions in people. Besides," he grumbled, rubbing his bruised cheekbone, "he should talk. He's the one who hit me in the face."

Danziger made a strangled sound of disbelief. "Morgan did that? Morgan Martin!"

Alonzo suddenly had visions of Danziger telling a dramatically inflated version of that incident around the campfire. The fact that Danziger suddenly burst into laughter seemed to confirm that. "It was a lucky shot," Alonzo protested. "He caught me off-guard. And I don't want to hear you running around telling everyone—"

"What? That Morgan kicked the crap out of you?" Danziger prompted, an evil grin on his face. "That is just too funny! I'm surprised Morgan didn't tell us himself. Wait until the others hear—"

"He did **not** 'kick the crap' out of me—!" Alonzo protested hotly.

"Morgan Martin," Danziger intoned, completely ignoring Alonzo. "Bureaucrat. Enforcer. Making G889 safe for humanity. Keeps uppity space-jockeys in line—"

"Oh. My. God." Alonzo buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to mention that to you. I'm going to regret this to my dying day."

"Probably," Danziger agreed cheerfully.

* * *

Julia stood in the doorway, listening with only half an ear as Danziger and Yale informed the group that they'd be travelling again tomorrow. One day's travel to reach higher ground, Yale was saying, and no more than two or three before they were completely out of the canyons and back on the grasslands. Walman was already eagerly offering to scout the path.

It seemed to be accepted as welcome news. After retrieving Alonzo and Morgan – both of whom had been too injured for travel – the group had been forced to set up an impromptu campsite beneath the overhanging canyon walls and simply wait. Though the winged Terrians had not ventured near again, that did not dissipate the palpable tension in the camp. Most of the group were now carrying weapons, ready to repel any attack. People would be glad to be out in the open again, without having to fear whatever might be overhead.

She thought briefly of Reilly, orbiting somewhere above.

Casting her eyes over the assembled group, Julia wasn't surprised that Morgan was nowhere to be seen – Bess had anxiously noted that he still seemed to need a lot of rest. Julia had agreed to check on him again later just to keep Bess happy, but she didn't believe there were any problems. Considering the ordeal the two of them had been through, Morgan was recovering at the expected rate. Alonzo, on the other hand, was only up and about among the group because he was pushing himself, because he always pushed, and he couldn't stand being bedridden.

Danziger, who possessed a very similar mindset, hadn't pressed the issue with Alonzo when Julia had protested.

She'd let it go, because it hadn't seemed to be worth the fight, and maybe he was right. Everyone knew what had happened, and they'd let her know immediately if Alonzo faltered in any way. She had to let go – had to differentiate between her personal feelings and her duties as a doctor.

So easy to say, but not so easy to do.

She'd felt the change in him. Since Alonzo had been back, since he'd finally wakened, there had been a distance between them. A lack of intimacy... He'd been keeping her at arms length. She wasn't sure it was deliberate – at times, Alonzo seemed almost afraid to touch her, seemed to want only to be alone. He never reached out for her now. And yet, whenever she actually dared touch him, he folded into that contact with a needy and desperate yearning.

She didn't know what he needed, didn't know what to do for him.

It made her uncomfortable, both in her fear for him, and in her role as physician. She was too close, too involved, couldn't possibly be objective. But if she pulled away from him now, she knew he would take it as rejection.

If she'd never stepped over that line in the first place, never let him blur that boundary between them... then things might have been easier. But then she'd also be a different person, and she didn't want that either.

No easy answers. Never any easy answers.

With a sigh, she turned away from the doorway and returned to her desk.

* * *

With the group dispersed to prep for tomorrow's departure – and with Baines helpfully distracting Alonzo – Yale, Danziger and Julia gathered on the edge of the camp to discuss matters privately. He was pretty sure their attempt at discretion wasn't going to fool Alonzo, but on the other hand, there was no need to rub his face in it either.

"So," Danziger said, cutting right to it, "what do you think?"

"Physically, he's recovering." It was a terse reply. "But physical wounds are easily healed. Emotional trauma is a less precise science."

Danziger knew she was referring to that lingering, uncharacteristic reserve in Alonzo. It set him on edge, too, but so far Alonzo had rebuffed all attempts to get him to talk about whatever was troubling him. It bothered Danziger, because their dealings with the Terrians – flying or digging – always seemed to end up as a question mark, mostly left unanswered.

"What about your scans?" he prompted. "Are those flying Terrians still in his head?"

"Not as far as I can tell," Julia admitted. "His neurological readings have all returned to proper levels."

"Well, if he doesn't want to talk to us, there's nothing we can do until he does," he said pragmatically. An uneasy silence met that suggestion. Danziger sighed. "I think it'll be easier for Alonzo to get back to normal if we all just treat him normally," he advised, speaking from memories of his own experience after that frozen Terrian took his body for a joyride. Weird uncomfortable silences, and anxiously pestering him for details that he might not even remember was only going to do more harm than good.

"You know how this group pulls together," he tried to reassure Julia. "We'll all keep an eye on him. In any case, both Morgan and Alonzo are well enough to travel now, and I don't want to risk Uly's health by delaying here any longer. How's he doing?"

"I examined Uly today, and he's fine. Fully healed from the last incident, with no indication so far of another outbreak. Possibly because this area is somewhat less sandy overall, or the camp's current proximity to the canyon walls may be sheltering us from some of the particulates in the air. Or," she added, "because I've kept him confined indoors."

Yale smiled a little. "I know Uly will be very glad to leave – I think he is growing very tired of his lessons with me."

"Yeah, I keep getting an earful from True every time I send her to keep him company," Danziger agreed. "Can't say I blame him for being grouchy, though. No further Terrian dreams?"

"No," Yale replied. "I think that one incident was an anomaly, that the Terrians were specifically trying to contact us in Alonzo's absence. Uly has never seemed to dream to them in the way that Alonzo does."

Which brought the question back to Julia. "What about Alonzo?" Danziger asked. "Any Terrian dreams... actually, any unusual dreams at all?"

"No," she replied.

"Are you sure?" he pressed.

Her eyes flashed. "Yes." And when he refused to let go of her gaze, she said, "I do learn from my errors, Danziger; I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

"All right – I'm sorry. I just want to be positive this time. Yale," he said, switching topics, "were you able to decipher any of that information that we picked up from the data collector?"

"Some of it. So far, I have found atmospheric and geological data. There also appears to be survey data, which, if it is intact, will be extremely useful. It is unfortunate that Morgan interrupted the data transfer."

"He didn't even know our systems were receiving it," Danziger pointed out, "and from what he said, it sounds like there wasn't much time to figure it out. He told me he was just trying to break the encryption. Any data we ended up getting is a bonus."

"Perhaps, then, I will enlist Morgan's help when he is recovered. He may be able to provide useful information about the programming. It does seem to be within his area of expertise."

"Good idea." Danziger shuddered briefly at the thought of Morgan Martin being useful: the world was definitely off its hinges... "There's one other thing. We've got to do something about Reilly."

Julia's eyes were startled. "I don't disagree, but what can we do? He's – it's – on a station, orbiting the planet. That's a little out of our reach at the moment."

"Yeah, and if we were out of his reach, maybe I'd leave it at that. But we're not. He can light the fuses on our biochips and fry us all."

Silence.

"And he can do that from orbit. As we all remember. Look, walking around and pretending we don't remember that hasn't done any of us any favours. It's time we dealt with the issue. I want these things out, Julia. Or, if not out," he added, correctly interpreting the look of dismay on her face, "then disabled. Beyond hope of repair or reactivation. He can track us with them, can attack us with them, and god knows what else."

"You're right," she murmured. "At the very least, it'll take time," she sighed wearily, and he knew that to her it was yet another weight on her shoulders, another task to eclipse her waking hours. They'd expected a lot of her, this last while. "A long time. And that's not even saying that I can do it. I'm not sure I can. I don't know the technology."

"I'll assist you in any way that I can," Yale offered. "As will the others, I'm sure."

Julia's frown didn't ease. "That biochip is tied into vital organs, critical neural arrays – it's a very dangerous thing to be tampering with. But... it's also too dangerous to leave it as is. Yale and I will work on it when we can," she promised. "But Devon's cure is still a priority. I can't just leave that – I need to know if it's a disease or if—"

"Don't worry – you're not getting any arguments from me on that. Let me know if you need more help." Sparing a quick glance up at the evening sky, he commented, "Let's discuss it more some other time. We should get back – I don't like standing out here in the dark." He still wasn't positive that those winged things were gone, wasn't convinced that they might not be lurking about, ready to snatch someone up when their back was turned. But that sounded like Morgan-Martin-level-paranoia, and so he kept it to himself.

"I agree," Yale added. "And as we are departing tomorrow, everyone should take the opportunity to get some rest."

* * *

"Morgan. Hey, Morgan. You awake?"

"I am now," he grumbled, trying to throw a fierce glare over his shoulder. However, craning his neck like that was more difficult than the gesture was worth, so he shuffled around until he was sitting upright. Alonzo was standing next to his cot, looking irritatingly healthy and whole. "Well," Morgan sniffed, "looks like the doctor's been squandering all her good medicine on you, while **I** get stuck with the leftovers—"

"Oh come on," Alonzo chided, pulling up a stool and sitting down. "You're the one who's been depleting Julia's supplies of Grendler-goo. I bounced back almost right away."

Not exactly true, from the looks of it. Alonzo's movements were a bit stilted, and the flash of white fabric beneath his jacket looked more like bandages than a shirt. Still, he was up and about, which was more than Morgan could say for himself. He eyed the pilot suspiciously. "If you just came here to gloat—"

"I see you've recovered your pleasant personality," Alonzo responded lightly, but there was a flicker of irritation in his gaze.

"**I've** recovered—!" Morgan snorted incredulously. "Look, if you want to talk about **un**pleasant, **unstable** personalities, then I should remind you that I'm not the one who—" To his surprise, Alonzo actually flinched, his affable expression falling into open discomfort as his composure faltered. "I'm not— I mean, I wasn't—" Morgan shook his head, then gave a heavy sigh. "Never mind. Just forget it."

A very long, very uncomfortable silence followed. Finally, Alonzo shifted restlessly, venturing to ask, "How's your shoulder?"

"All right, I guess," he decided, quickly seizing onto the topic. Julia seemed convinced that he was fine and was healing well, but Morgan wasn't about to leave anything to chance. After all, if you didn't have your health, you didn't have anything. Or so they said. But it would definitely be prudent, he supposed, to avoid heavy labour for the next while. "She said it was more of a crack in the bone than a break, and that the bone-healer vaccine kicked in on its own. It's still sore, but at least it works." He raised his arm a little to demonstrate. "It's just a good thing you didn't use any more of that Terrian electricity stuff than you did when you hit me. I don't even want to think about what kind of damage that might have done." Alonzo seemed to be at a loss for words. "And, of course," Morgan continued with a perverse enjoyment, "I'm glad that you didn't actually hit me on the head like you were obviously planning to, because that would have been even more—"

"Look – Morgan," Alonzo interrupted, then fell silent. Visibly steeling himself, he lifted his eyes to meet Morgan's. "I'm sorry about what happened. I'm sorry you got caught up in the middle of it, and I'm very sorry that you got hurt. If it means anything to you, I really didn't know— well, I don't know what I knew. Some of it doesn't really make a lot of sense to me, even now. But I didn't plan any of this. I didn't want to do... all the things that I did. And I am sorry."

"Oh." There wasn't too much he could think of to say in response to that apology, and he even felt a tiny twinge of guilt for being so difficult. "Well... okay."

Another extended pause.

"We're breaking camp and moving out tomorrow," Alonzo offered.

"Yale finally found a way out of here?" Morgan couldn't hide his relief. "It's about time. I'll be glad to see the last of this place. I suppose you will, too," he offered, but Alonzo didn't respond. "Anyway," Morgan continued, talking inanely because the awkward silence only made him feel more nervous, "the next time you have an appointment with some Terrians, I'm just going to stay out of the way, okay? I'd rather not get accidentally caught up in these things – I think I'm actually more of a bystander type."

"Maybe it wasn't accidental, Morgan. Maybe you were meant to be there."

Morgan blinked with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"You're the one who found a way to destroy the robot," Alonzo pointed out, "not me. I'd have ended up killing us both if you hadn't stepped in. And I also remember enough to know that I'd be dead now if you hadn't dragged me out of there when you did."

"Well, actually you did most of the dragging," Morgan began to correct, then realized that wasn't the point Alonzo was making. "Wait. Are you telling me that those Terrians actually picked me? That's... that's just..." He floundered incoherently, before managing to sputter, "That's got to be the most horrible thing anyone's ever told me."

"What?" Alonzo's startled reply was more than a bit bewildered.

"I can handle it just being dumb, blind, bad luck – it's not fun, but when you think about it, what other kind of luck is there on this planet? At least it's not personal. But **that** – the Terrians knowing who I am! – that's terrible! Dangerous! I don't want them thinking they can— Wait. Wait a minute. Is this some kind of... of awful Terrian revenge for that whole Morganite business? Because, if so, I just need to say again that I was really not—"

"Morgan! Shut up already."

"You shut up," he retorted, vaguely aware of how childish that sounded, but he didn't care. "I had to listen to you repeatedly spouting off about kill-kill-death-destroy. So the least you can do is listen to me for a few minutes."

Though Morgan had expected him to be angry at that remark, Alonzo actually laughed softly, and put up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, Morgan. I'm listening."

"No, you're not! You're just humouring me."

"I'm not," he insisted, more seriously. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to tell you that I'm glad you were there, Morgan. I know you'd rather not have been," he conceded, "but you handled it well. Better than I did. And I don't think things would've worked out at all if you hadn't been there. That's all."

Morgan stared at the other man for a long moment, trying to figure him out. Alonzo looked and sounded much like he'd used to. But this was the first time he'd seen him conscious and coherent since Eden Advance had finally come to the rescue, and Morgan doubted that Alonzo could really have rebounded so quickly. "You seem to have recovered," he said cautiously.

"Yeah." A distinctly uncomfortable tension began to creep over the other man, and he averted his eyes. "Yeah, I was lucky, I guess," he replied distractedly, as if he weren't entirely convinced.

"But you've still got the dermaplasts," Morgan pointed out, catching sight of the regenerative covering on the other man's arms. Julia had taken the last of Morgan's off yesterday, but he remembered Alonzo hadn't been wearing a jacket at the time of the explosion. "Are the burns still pretty bad?"

Alonzo adjusted his sleeves, covering the dermaplasts as if they were an offending flaw. "It'll heal."

"So... can I... can I ask you about it?"

Alonzo didn't reply, didn't look back at him, but nodded his head.

"That first day – they got into your head then, didn't they? I mean, I was right about that, wasn't I?"

"Yes, Morgan," a pained and patient reply that seemed to leave him oddly humbled. "You were right."

"Do you remember much of it?"

Alonzo's eyes flicked back to him, unusually attentive. "I'm not sure," he admitted slowly. "I think I do..." He gave a dry, humourless laugh. "But I don't know if that's worth much any more." A little more distantly, he added, "I do remember trying to kill you."

"I seem to have a few vivid memories of that as well," Morgan noted sourly. "You were certainly persistent about it."

"I'm sorry—"

"Yeah, well, I guess it wasn't really your fault," he said grudgingly, forestalling yet another apology from the other man. "As long as you don't try it again." After another moment, he peered curiously at Alonzo. "Did it hurt? Having them in your head?"

"Not... not quite. Not that I can recall," Alonzo replied haltingly. "It was... uncomfortable. Disorienting. There were times I could almost... almost comprehend what was wrong, and then it was alarming, but most of the time— It's hard to explain." He shrugged, throwing a wry half-smile toward Morgan. "And I just spent half the day trying to explain it to Danziger, Yale and Julia."

"Yeah? So what's the verdict? How do you feel now?"

A pause. "Empty."

Morgan regarded the other man, more than a little surprised that he was being so forthright with him. "Are you answering my questions just because you feel guilty about what happened?"

A ghost of a smile. "Mostly."

And maybe it was prying, maybe he was asking questions that were none of his business, especially when he had no doubt that Alonzo would not normally have chosen to confide in him, but Morgan ventured pointedly, "How do you know they're gone now? How can you be sure that those things aren't still there, buried somewhere in your mind?"

Alonzo was very still, his gaze unreadable. "I don't know, Morgan."

Morgan didn't have anything to say in response to that blunt admission. "Well," he said after a long hesitation, "what does Julia think?"

Alonzo's hand lifted to his temples as if he were warding away a headache. "Ask me something I can answer."

"Do you hate those things – those winged Terrians – whatever they were – for what they did?"

A slight flicker of surprise showed on Alonzo's face; he considered the question before answering. "No, I don't hate them. I can't say I **like** them at the moment... but they were... desperate," he said, a trace of parallel despair in his own voice as if he were still hearing faint echoes, "they were needy. They only wanted to help their young. It sounds strange, but... they remind me, a little, of us. When we first came here, asking the Terrians for help, and not knowing what it meant. Offering our help in exchange and not knowing what that meant either. They meant no wrong."

"How can you say that? It went wrong – we could have been killed. We nearly were."

"They were dying," Alonzo countered. "They were being killed."

"That's – that's different," Morgan sputtered.

"Why? Because it wasn't us?"

Morgan squirmed a little, despite the mildness of Alonzo's tone.

"They've been dying here for years, and... couldn't wait any longer for it to end. They had no choice. And that data collector **was** launched from Earthspace – it was our technology, our equipment," Alonzo reminded him. "Why shouldn't we be the ones to fix it?"

Morgan shifted uncomfortably, not quite able to deny that he wouldn't feel the same way if the situation were reversed. "I don't care," he insisted, though there was an uncertain edge to his voice. "I still don't like them."

"It doesn't matter now," Alonzo shrugged, obviously disinclined to discuss it further, "it's over."

"How can you be so sure? You said yourself that—" Morgan halted as Bess unexpectedly stepped into the tent.

"Morgan," she said, "I've brought you some more— Oh. Alonzo. I didn't know you were here." Though her expression didn't noticeably change, Morgan was aware of the quietly protective light that flared in her eyes. She promptly moved to stand by Morgan's side. "I don't mean to interrupt, but it's getting late and if we're leaving tomorrow, Morgan really ought to be resting..."

"It's all right, Bess—"

"No, she's right. I should go." He got to his feet, meeting Morgan's gaze fully. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry for what happened, Morgan—"

"Wait—" Morgan caught Alonzo's arm, and the other man just about jumped out of his skin, yanking roughly away. For an instant, he thought he'd accidentally hurt him, grabbing his burned arm too tightly or something, but at the look on Alonzo's face, Morgan realized that wasn't it. He'd frightened him.

"S-sorry," Morgan stuttered, taken aback. "I didn't mean to—"

Bess had surged forward in his defense – no doubt ready to clout Alonzo if he made any threatening gestures – but she subsided when Morgan caught her hand. He'd seen Alonzo crazy-out-of-control, and this wasn't it. If anything, Alonzo seemed equally discomfited by his overreaction, but Morgan figured he knew where it was coming from.

Morgan tried again. "Look, I, um, just wanted to say that it's okay. I get that it wasn't your fault. And," he paused, not sure how the other man would take it, but then plunged ahead anyway. "And I remember being on the mesa. Bess and I, when we brought the springtime." Bess' hand tightened on his. "It's hard to describe what it was like. It was... maybe like a sound, a humming – something pulling us along. But when we were running toward it – for that moment, it was the most important thing in the world, the most amazing thing we'd ever do." Morgan realized he was drifting off track. "But that's not the point. The point is, afterwards, for me, things were... sort of weird for a while. As if I could maybe... still feel little bits of it left over... at the strangest times. But eventually, everything went back to normal. Bess and I both got better, and it all worked out." He looked closely at Alonzo. "Maybe it's not exactly the same thing... but it's not all that different either, is it?"

Alonzo glanced at Morgan, at Bess – "I'd better go," he said neutrally – then ducked his head and exited the tent.

"Morgan, are you okay?" Bess prompted, concerned, and when he nodded, she asked, "What was that all about?"

"Oh... it's a long story," Morgan sighed, needing to sort some of it out in his own head first before he talked about it.

* * *

Julia woke to the morning sunlight and the sounds of people wandering around outside her tent, starting to pack up the campsite. She was disappointed, but not surprised, to find herself alone.

Last night, the winds had risen, tearing through the valleys with a mournful wail and setting the fabric walls of the tents to rattling. Julia had heard Alonzo wake suddenly in the middle of the night, felt him start with surprise beside her, before he slowly sat up. He'd been listening... maybe to the wind, or maybe something else beneath that – the mournful sounds that might not have been just the weather... Or perhaps he'd been more focused on the way the tent fabric was fluttering and flapping in the gale – the sounds it made, and what it might have reminded him of...

And when he finally seemed to shake it off and lie down again, he didn't speak, didn't move towards her, but she'd almost been able to hear the intensity of his listening. Both of them lying awake, neither of them admitting it, but listening to each other in the dark, trying to detect something... A hint, a key, a clue... or maybe just a safe way out of the silence that now separated them.

Even after his trembling had eased and he drifted back into a restless sleep, Julia had stayed awake. Listening to the wind, listening to him breathe, and wanting to close the distance between them, to clasp her own arms tightly about him to keep him from slipping away. Resisting the urge to touch her hand to his neck to count his pulse. To retrieve her instruments and run test after test after test, as if any of that would give her a window into his dreams; as if she could hold onto him if she only understood him...

She didn't know when she'd finally fallen asleep, but instinctively she knew that today was going to be yet another long, exhausting day. Weren't they all?

* * *

With a few hours to go before the camp was disassembled, Baines and Walman were busying themselves with the heavier equipment, and Danziger had decided to spend his own time doing minor repairs to the vehicles.

Catching sight of Alonzo in the campsite, Danziger paused. He'd rather have waited until they were out of this corner of the world before trying to pull the other man back into camp life, but watching him drift aimlessly around the periphery of the activity, Danziger decided now was as good a time as any.

He cast a quick searching glance upwards alongside the adjacent cliffside and through the blue sky above. Seeing no sign of any flying creatures, he turned back towards camp, shouting, "Hey! Alonzo! Come here, I want to show you something."

With a faintly questioning look, his friend joined him at the camp's perimeter.

"See that?" Danziger prompted.

Alonzo glanced at him, plainly baffled. "It's the DuneRail."

"Right. And remember what I told you?"

Alonzo had a blank look on his face. Danziger handed him a wrench. Alonzo stared, a pained realization dawning. "You have got to be kidding me—"

"I never joke about my vehicles, Lonz."

"But it wasn't me!" he objected. "I didn't do it. **Morgan **was driving—"

"Nice try. But do you actually think I'd let Morgan anywhere near my vehicles, except as a passenger? – and even then," he mused, "I still kind of object. If you were stupid enough to let him drive, that's your own fault."

"But... that's not fair..."

"Aw. Too bad. Life's not fair. And quit giving me those sad eyes!" he badgered. "They don't work on me. The bottom line is, you said, and I quote – 'not a scratch'. I don't know why you're even complaining – I already fixed most of it for you. Come on," he coaxed, waving the toolkit in front of him. "You **promised**." He made his own sad face.

With an aggravated groan, Alonzo snatched the toolkit away from Danziger. "It wasn't like I ever intended to keep that promise," he grumbled.

"I find your honesty refreshing," he teased, unable to hide his smirk. "Now shut up and get to work. That Rail isn't gonna repair itself, you know, and we've only got an hour or so before we leave."

Alonzo walked over to the DuneRail, but his almost inaudible muttering had a markedly foul sound to it. "What needs fixing?" he finally asked, defeated.

"What doesn't?" Danziger retorted. "Since the two of you crashed it," he said, putting particular emphasis on the word 'crashed', "the steering's been a little tricky; I think it needs realigning. I already replaced the tire you ruined, but the motor and the drive line system could also use some tweaking—"

Danziger paused, suddenly realizing that all the components he'd been listing off were on the underside of the vehicle. Seeing Alonzo stiffly starting to lean over, Danziger hastily darted forward to intercept, catching his shoulder. "—Whoa, hold on a minute!" Alonzo quickly shrugged out from underneath his grasp, taking a startled step backward. "I changed my mind. On second thought," he said, grabbing the toolkit back, "maybe I'll handle that part myself." Julia hadn't even wanted to let Alonzo be out and about yet – if he crawled under the Rail and strained something because Danziger had goaded him into overexerting himself, Danziger was sure that Julia would kick his ass halfway around the planet.

"Here. You can reset the circuits on the solar array," Danziger decided, handing him the circuitry adapter, as if that were a plausible reason for his abrupt intervention. That was a nice sedentary job. "They haven't been charging properly, and the systems keep cutting out."

"What's the matter? Don't trust me near the engines?"

"Hell no," Danziger replied, already easing himself under the vehicle. "I remember what happened to the Roanoke— Ouch! Hey! Watch where you're stepping!"

"Sorry," Alonzo said, not sounding sorry at all.

Danziger grinned to himself, pleased to find out that Alonzo's standoffishness wasn't absolute – maybe he just needed a little push back into the routine.

* * *

"Hey, Martin. Good to see you up."

Morgan had been listening very intently for the sarcastic edge to Danziger's remark – was surprised to find it wasn't there. He looked at Danziger, who was standing there, waiting expectantly with a big heavy box on his shoulder. "I, uh, I'm not going to be much good at helping you pack," he warned. "I'm still not well."

Danziger's smirking smile looked a lot like laughter. "You're off the hook today," he agreed, and then as he passed by, muttered to himself in an undertone that probably wasn't meant to be heard, "And it's not like you were that good at it when you were well, either."

Slightly miffed, Morgan made his way to a nice-sized boulder and parked his butt there. This, he decided, was going to be a good day. They were packing up to leave these awful canyons, were going to put it all behind them, and drive off into the sunset... where some other horrible fate probably awaited them. With an aggravated sigh, Morgan wondering why his pessimistic side always won out whenever he started thinking. It was a good thing he had Bess.

"Morgan, you look so much better this morning," she gushed, full of her usual optimism. "And doesn't it look like it's going to be a perfect day for traveling? Still, keep your coat on until we're out of the canyons – I don't want you catching a chill," she said, adjusting it for him. "I've already talked to Baines, and you and I will be riding in the DuneRail with him. I'm just going to get Julia to check you out before we get underway. Does that sound good?"

"Sounds very good," he agreed. She started to move away, and he caught her hand. "Bess?"

"What's wrong, Morgan?"

"When you weren't there with me... I missed you, Bess."

She bent down to kiss him lightly, and gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. Only his Bess could smile like that. "I missed you, too, sweetie. Now wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Morgan obediently complied, happy to watch the bustling activity of the camp from his comfortable distance.

Julia appeared a few moments later, diaglove in hand, and asking all the questions he'd come to expect. How are you feeling this morning? Are you eating normally? Taking your medication? Any unusual dreams? Any unusual aches and pains?

Morgan was familiar enough with those questions to answer them almost by rote, pausing to briefly consider the intent of 'unusual aches and pains', and decided she didn't mean those that she already knew about.

"Your health has certainly improved, Morgan," Julia finally concluded. "You'll be back to your old self in no time."

"Oh, no, I don't know about that. You can't rush these things – sometimes it takes time." After all, he was in no hurry to get back to being Danziger's little packhorse.

Making no comment on his advice, Julia permitted herself a patient smile, then ventured, "Morgan," in a slightly different tone, "Bess told me that Alonzo had been talking with you last night."

"Yeah," he said, wondering why that statement had sounded so much like a question. And then, as she continued to stare hopefully at him, abruptly understood what she was looking for. She wanted to know what had been said – but she also didn't want to come right out and ask. "But," he stumbled in confusion, "but... I thought – I mean... hasn't he talked to you?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Somehow, at moments like these, Morgan always found the wrong thing to say.

The nervous expectation in her eyes immediately shut down, and the faint smile on her face was obviously just a mask. "You shouldn't have any problems travelling today, Morgan. I'll check on you again after we stop for the evening." And she turned on her heel, briskly walking away.

"Okay," he said to himself, wishing he could go back and change that last sentence just a little bit. But how was he supposed to have known? He hadn't been out of his tent in days. Now, watching the activity around camp much more closely, he could sense a bit of an odd dynamic to the group. Everyone went about their business, but... Morgan abruptly realized it was almost the reverse of the situation he'd found himself in when they'd first met those flying creatures.

Back then, everyone had been hesitant and extra careful around him, because Morgan had insisted there was something wrong with Alonzo, and they all thought **he** was crazy. Now that guardedness was directed at Alonzo, which Morgan found ironic, since he was fairly sure the danger was passed.

And maybe it had passed, but as Morgan watched, he saw Alonzo still going around like one of the walking wounded. That had been made fairly evident to Morgan last night, but at the time, he'd thought it was just him. That Alonzo was uncomfortable around him. But if he hadn't even been talking to Julia, of all people...

"Alonzo!" Danziger called. "We're almost ready to go. You coming along with us, or taking a spot on the Rail? Plenty of room here – I've just got Uly and True in the Rover."

"No. If it's all the same to you, I think I'll walk for a while."

Julia's head snapped around. "It's not 'all the same'. You're not well enough to be traveling on foot."

Morgan winced inwardly, fully expecting to see a sudden flare of resentment in Alonzo's eyes, but he barely glanced at her.

"I'm not broken," Alonzo said evenly. "I can walk for a while." And he looked past Julia towards Danziger for confirmation.

Danziger was watching the pilot with intent scrutiny, then abruptly gave an amicable shrug. "Okay," he said, and maybe he didn't see the way Julia stiffened with disbelief, or maybe he was just ignoring it. "But just for a while," he qualified. "And only as long as you can keep up with the Rover. You start falling behind, then you're getting in the vehicle, and I don't want to hear any arguments about it."

Alonzo nodded. Julia rounded on Danziger, who motioned her away, the two of them obviously going somewhere else to argue.

Morgan sat and watched for a few moments. Bystander, he reminded himself, mentally reciting the lessons he thought he'd learned. 'Always safer to be a bystander. Keep your head down, and stay out of the line of fire.' All very good advice. Problem was, he'd never been all that good at following advice. With a dismayed shake of his head, Morgan stood up and ventured over to Alonzo.

The other man gave him only a perfunctory glance. "I'm really not in the mood for company right now, Morgan."

"Yeah, I... uh, kinda noticed."

"So what do you want, then?"

Morgan paused, wondering how to put it, then blurted out, "What're you doing?"

"What...?"

"You know what I mean."

Alonzo stared at him as if he truly didn't.

"I've been sitting over there watching you, and on the one hand, you act like nothing ever happened," Morgan said, "but on the other hand, you're treating Julia like what she says is just a suggestion that you don't have to listen to, and you won't even look at her when you do it."

"I'm fine—" Alonzo started to say, but Morgan cut him off.

"No. You're really not."

It was a peculiar thing to be able to stare Alonzo down – Morgan was pretty sure he'd never managed that before.

"She cares about you, Solace. Why are you pushing her away?"

"I know she does," Alonzo sighed almost inaudibly, a flash of regret crossing his face, "but it's... too much for me right now. I'm not trying to push her away. I... just need..."

"What?" Morgan prompted. "What do you need? She can't help you if you won't tell her. And she's worked herself to the bone trying to help you. She's worried about you." Alonzo hadn't seen it – he'd been mostly asleep or unconscious, as Julia had been working herself ragged over the two of them.

Even for Morgan, those memories now had a chaotic, blurred edge. The most significant thing he remembered was Bess. For a while, for the first few moments when she and Danziger had found them, her presence with him was enough to make him almost forget what he'd been through. But eventually, his other aches and pains became intrusive enough that he decided he really did need a doctor.

Then Yale and Julia had arrived, and then all the others – all hovering around, jostling him as they carted him here and there, and all shouting, it seemed – while almost overtop his head, in a billowing whitish blur, a tent had been set up with surprising speed. So quick and surreal that it seemed almost dreamlike. By that point, though, he'd grown a bit numb to everything. When Bess had leaned over and told him he could rest, that she'd stand guard and wouldn't let anything happen to him, it had seemed like a very good idea indeed. Smart woman, his wife.

Next time he woke, the white bubble over his head looked very much like the med tent. Bess was slumped over next to him, fast asleep with her head nestled up against his arm. Julia, pale and drawn and obviously in need of sleep herself, was wide-awake, consulting her equipment and her scopes and her readouts with feverish intensity.

Something had been pressing uncomfortably against his face, but when Morgan lifted his hand to pull it away, the movement must have caught Julia's eye, for she'd suddenly leapt to her feet and rushed over to him. "No, no," she objected, catching his hand and gently pushing it aside. "Leave it. You still need it." And then paused to give him a smile. "How are you feeling, Morgan?"

"Better," he decided. Better than what? Better than being a roasted carcass abandoned on top of a mountain. Yes, much better than that. "How're... you?"

Julia had laughed a little, as if he'd said something amusing. "I'm fine. Thank you. But I think you need to rest."

At the time, he didn't think that made much sense – he'd just woken up, after all – but strangely enough, she was right. He was awfully tired. Turning his head, he caught sight of Alonzo lying on a cot next to him. Morgan hoped he didn't look quite as bad as that, but realized he probably did. All of a sudden, he'd understood the antiseptic flavour of the air. The cool feel of the dermaplasts against his burned skin. The pleasant numbness that had to be painkillers.

Morgan had looked back at Julia with a rush of alarm, but she must have followed his gaze and she had been staring intently at Alonzo as if she desperately needed him to be awake, just for a moment or two. Morgan had felt almost sorry for her. Trying to be reassuring, he gave a clumsy pat on Julia's hand, and her eyes had snapped back to him, almost guiltily. "Don't worry," he said. "I think he'll be okay now."

"What are you basing that on?"

"Nothing," he'd admitted. Tried to shrug, but his shoulders weren't moving. "Just a feeling..."

"All right." A bland, equivocal reply that merely meant she was ending the conversation. "I want you to try to go back to sleep now, Morgan. You **are** recovering," she reassured him, "but at the moment, your body needs the rest."

He'd listened to her, because it had seemed like profoundly good advice – and to be under doctor's orders to sleep; now there was an opportunity he didn't want to squander – but every time he'd wakened, Bess and Julia had been there. Bess had been watchful and calm, but no fear in her eyes, but Julia had always been awake, always working, always glancing anxiously towards Alonzo, as if her worries hadn't been alleviated.

Looking at Alonzo now, Morgan wondered just how much the other man remembered. Did he recall little snippets of what had happened, or was all of it a deep well of darkness that he'd more than half-forgotten? There was a morose uneasiness in his expression that seemed to indicate that, whatever the answer was, Alonzo wasn't comfortable with it.

"Are you listening? Did you hear what I said?" Morgan repeated, and Alonzo looked over at him as if he'd just been interrupted. "Julia," Morgan prompted. "I said, she's worried about you."

"I know that."

"So why are you avoiding her? Trust me, Alonzo, what happened out there isn't some great big secret – you're probably the only person in this camp **not **talking about it. You don't want to tell any of us, fine. But why don't you at least talk to Julia? Tell her."

"Tell her what?" Alonzo snapped. "Tell her what, Morgan? About dreams, visions, prophecies? Bits and pieces of things that I can't prove are even real? She's a doctor. A scientist. And I'm just... I'm... I don't know what the hell I am right now." He threw up his hands. "Look, just let me deal with it on my own, okay? I'm a hell of a lot older than you," he said dismissively. "I can look after myself by now."

"Yeah, you keep saying that," Morgan retorted waspishly, "and no one ever calls you on it, but it's not exactly true when you stop to think about it. Who cares how many years you spent in cold sleep? Doesn't count for anything. Count the number of days that you've spent awake, and you're probably younger than most everyone around here but Uly and True. So maybe you shouldn't be blowing people off all the time."

Alonzo appeared to be visibly taken aback, as if he couldn't quite believe he was being lectured to by Morgan Martin. Or maybe that was just the look he gave before he jumped up and punched people in the face for their temerity. Morgan wasn't quite sure.

In any case, the call of "Morgan, honey," on Bess' voice could not have come at a more opportune moment. She was waiting for him with a bright and breezy smile. "It's time to go. Are you ready?"

"Yes! Absolutely, completely, totally ready."

"Well, come on, then," she urged. "Baines is already bringing the DuneRail around."

Giving a quick nod to Alonzo, Morgan hurried to join Bess, pausing a little as he walked by the TransRover. There, Uly was sitting and sighing loudly and peering out the open passenger window in apparent boredom, looking almost as impatient to get underway as Morgan felt. Bess had mentioned something about Uly earlier – something about Terrians and hypersensitivity and the land around here.

"Don't worry, Uly," Bess called up to the boy. "We'll be leaving in a few minutes."

"I'm tired of waiting," he said petulantly. "We've been camped here for days. I want to go now." As his gaze settled on Morgan, he leaned out the window to stare down at him in sudden interest. "You helped the wings, didn't you?"

"Um... well, yes, sort of, I guess," he hedged uncertainly. Uly, like Alonzo, had a weird kind of affinity with Terrians, and Morgan suspiciously wondered if this were a trick question. "They got what they wanted, anyway. Not really sure if that's the same thing... So, did we save the day? Will the Terrians come back and..." he waved a hand imprecisely around at the scrubby landscape, "make everything good here again? Renew the earth, set things right, et cetera, et cetera?"

"No," Uly replied, almost without thinking, "I don't think they're ever coming back here. Not for a long time, anyway. It tastes like death to them, and besides, they don't like the wings."

Morgan goggled at the child, who seemed oblivious to his surprise. And once again, he wondered just how deeply ingrained that Terrian knowledge of Uly's was. "Well, aren't you full of fun facts," he muttered, then said more loudly, "At least we agree on one thing: I don't like 'the wings' either."

* * *

Alonzo walked alone, because he wanted to be alone, and this time they let him.

A long ways ahead, the ATV was a plume of dust in the distance, already nearing the peak of the long slope leading out of the canyons. The DuneRail bounced over the uneven ground as it energetically pursued the same path, while the much slower, more ponderous TransRover was trailing even further behind.

On foot, walking alongside the TransRover, Cameron, Denner, Magus and Yale were engaged in light conversation. Julia followed a short distance after them, not trailing so far behind that she was keeping company with Alonzo, but not so far ahead of him either. He knew she still worried about him; whenever she looked at him now, he could feel that watchful concern bleeding through her gaze. It made him not want to meet her eyes, and he knew that hurt her, and he didn't want to do that either.

But it was the first time anyone had let him be alone in days. In the camp, it had seemed that someone was always shadowing his footsteps; no matter when or where he went, someone would happen to appear and want to accompany him. All very innocuous and friendly, but Alonzo had noticed several of them casting furtive glances skyward, and surmised that their constant presence was meant for his protection. They meant well – he understood that, and had tried not chafe under the restriction – but it was stifling, always having someone looking over his shoulder and checking up on him.

He needed some distance, some time to think.

Things were confusing right now. He was at loose ends, unsettled in a way he hadn't been since when they'd first landed here, since the Terrians had first stepped into his mind. He couldn't shake the malaise that had settled over him.

Empty, unresolved, unanswered.

He needed... something...

Morgan's words continued to eat at him, and he wasn't able to dismiss them as easily as he wanted to. He watched Julia walking ahead of him, her small shoulders resolute, but carrying an undeniable weariness on her slight frame. Had he done that to her?

Ahead of him, the rest of the Eden group looked like a long threadlike line, slowly winding their way out of the valleys. Far ahead, Morgan was riding with the Rail, and Alonzo, hanging back, would be the last to leave. Was there significance to that?

And he shook his head at that thought – now he'd turned into a mystic, looking for symbols in the earth and sky. All that meant was that he was didn't have any answers, was flailing to find a way out.

Abruptly realizing how far he was lagging behind, and not doubting for a moment that Danziger would hold him to his word if he didn't promptly pick up the pace, Alonzo spurred himself to walk forward more quickly.

He halted, catching sight of the silhouette whirling overhead almost in the same moment that a cry of alarm went up. Wings. A sudden storm of wings. Fluttering, flapping, and descending from the sky to alight upon the overhanging stone walls, on the boulders, and landing on the ground all around him in a loose unthreatening circle. Something subtle shifted within him in lightning-quick succession. Dread, fear, longing, terror, compulsion. He tried them all, but none fit quite right.

Ahead of him, everything had rumbled to a halt, the TransRover idling, and everyone standing and staring in petrified uncertainty. No voices, no motion, just absolute stillness. For an instant, he wondered if he were caught in a dream.

And then saw a flurry of reactive movement from the corner of his eye, turned his head to see Julia struggling toward him while Yale held her back. In other hands, weapons were being upraised, swivelling towards him, towards the wings—

Alonzo flung up his hand. "Don't—!"

The weapons did not lower, but no shots were fired.

"What's going on, Lonz?" Danziger's voice, deceptively mild as he leapt down from the TransRover, stalking slowly forward with the MagPro held ready.

Why did people ask questions like that? Why did they think he knew? Once, maybe, he might have ventured an answer. But since he'd met the winged Terrians, there had been only uncertainty and confusion. Some part of him had been broken into many pieces, and he hadn't even begun to pull it all back together.

"Just wait," he said evenly, turning back to regard the wings. "Wait."

The winged ones were not restless, not agitated, not advancing. They were waiting for him. Calmly waiting to see what he would choose to do. Filled now with endless patience. If he walked away, he knew they would let him walk. His choice.

Julia touched his shoulders, and he jumped. In his preoccupation, he hadn't heard her coming up behind him. "Alonzo," she murmured softly, her voice aching. "Whatever it is, you've done enough. Come on. Let's go." Her hands were clasped tightly on his shoulders as she tried to draw him away.

"Wait," he said again, refusing to move. He tried to make sense of what it was he felt. What was being offered. No threats, no need to fear, and that little small bundle of wings flickering like a butterfly behind the protective shelter of the elder ones...

Curiosity got the better of him, and he began to step forward.

Julia held him back, her grip taut with misgiving. "Are you sure?" she whispered from behind him.

"I'm sure," he replied.

She let him go.

There was a flurry of protest from the others, but Alonzo disregarded it. He walked slowly forward, moving tentatively towards that less patient, fluttering small shape that danced around the tall, angular figures that were waiting so tranquilly. One of the young ones? Morgan had mentioned seeing them, but... The small winged creature abruptly flew straight at him, and he balked, stumbling back in sudden alarm. A chirring sound from one of the elders and the little creature backed off, wings beating fast as it hovered unsteadily in midair.

Alonzo lifted his arm slightly, and the small creature needed no further invitation, eagerly alighting upon it. Pixie-like and feather-light. It nimbly clambered up towards his shoulder, nuzzling lightly against his face. Startled joy bubbled through him at that electric touch, and Alonzo laughed aloud in surprise. _...Joy delight and bright eyed wonder twirling dancing happy in the wide sky fearless flying the wind..._

Beneath that unthinking stream of consciousness, he could sense the faint rippling echo of the others trying to moderate that exuberance, urging restraint: _quietly, take care, do not harm, fragile things, not like wings..._

But it wasn't like before. Wasn't pain, wasn't anguish, wasn't fear. No compulsion. Just newborn-elation-freedom-happiness-exhilaration-hope. He tried to catch it in his hands, savouring the unexpected realization that this was what it was like to speak to the sky – the way it should have been, would have been – not a scream, but a song.

He dared extend a hand, and felt one of the elder ones sweep gently against his outstretched fingertips.

_... not forgotten we are beholden if needed ever call down the wind..._

A beating of wings in his face, and the young one had already flown away, was spinning upwards into the sky in an ebullient, carefree flight. All around him, the elder wings took to the air, and in moments, he was standing alone again.

Only a few steps away, Julia stood watching him, her arms tightly folded about her as if she were virtually holding herself back, but her taut expression lightened hopefully as he turned his gaze toward her.

"Are you all right?"

The same question he'd been asked, over and over and over again. But, for the first time in a long time, he meant it when he replied, "I'll be fine."

She was staring at him so intently that he knew the doctor in her must have been trying to pin down, identify and quantify the difference she saw.

Alonzo didn't have the words to explain it, but the winged ones had given him what he needed. Apology and answer; they had tried to make amends. There was a reason for what had happened. Purpose. Though he'd known it before, he hadn't truly felt it until now.

"It's all right," he murmured, taking her hand, and that gesture felt comfortably familiar to him again. "Let's go."

And although he wasn't wholly healed yet, he knew he would be. He would find his way back. For the moment, the awareness of that – and the pleasant feel of Julia's hand in his – was enough.

* * *

– _fin–_


End file.
